The Mark
by MandyQ
Summary: Lucius brings his family to the World Cup of Quidditch, and sees the Dark Mark in the sky for the first time in thirteen years. Follow the Malfoys from before MORSMORDRE to the Dark Lord's reemergence. COMPLETE. Pls R&R. TDH Compliant. GoF spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything in this story, unless I somehow manage to work in a cat or some student loan debt. Everything contained herein is the property of JK Rowling, Warner Bros., Scholastic, and the agents, representatives, and licensees of the same. I have not made a dime on this, save the fact that I did some planning while at work yesterday, and I do not intend to gain a plug nickel from this writing. No infringement is intended and it is my firm contention that this entire story was written while under the Imperious curse. The Malfoys made me do it.

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**JUNE 5, 1994**

"Mother, it's my birthday," Draco exhorted. "You've taken me out of school for the day; shouldn't I be out doing something I want to do instead of sitting here?"

"Draco, sweetheart," his mother answered him, "your father told us both to be waiting here when he gets home." Narcissa Malfoy shook her head as she dropped a lump of sugar into her third cup of tea for the morning. She knew, of course, where her husband was. Every year on this day he rose at sunup and Apparated to Gringott's to make a substantial withdrawal; the amount got larger every year. He then took the bags of gold directly from the bank to St. Mungo's hospital and shook hands with the administrator and chief of staff, leaving them with the thousands of Galleons as a donation. And every year it seemed that Draco got more and more impatient for his father to return with his birthday gifts; which Lucius would have undoubtedly also retrieved from their vaults at Gringott's.

"Narmin could come get me," Draco offered. "If I'm only as far as the Quidditch Pitch…" Of course, he was right. Any of the house-elves could certainly fetch him from wherever he might go on the property, but he still mightn't make it back to the drawing room in time to greet Lucius on his return from London. Narcissa knew her husband well enough to know that he'd be thoroughly perturbed by his son's disobedience and she would rather not have ruined this day.

"Draco," she addressed her son. "I am fully aware that Narmin could retrieve you from anywhere you might wish to be that isn't here with your mother. And I am not going to force you to stay here and have tea with me. It is your birthday, and you have every right to do as you wish." She smiled at her son over her cup of tea and then continued; "However, I would like you to consider the fact that you know as well as I do that your father will be returning from London presently, no doubt with some wicked and expensive birthday gift for you of which I may or may not approve. On occasions when I have disapproved of his choice of gifts in the past I've had no real recourse, as you'd undoubtedly already been handed the dubious item and I know you'd never forgive me for denying you some treasured dark trinket from your father. However, were you to be absent upon his return this year, and I were to learn of some item being intended for you of which I did not approve, then…" She looked up and arched her eyebrows at her son. "Well," she continued, crossing her ankles under herself and replacing her teacup on its saucer, "I'd finally have the chance to stop such a gift from making it into your hands." She folded her hands in her lap. "That said," she sang, "I have no objection to your going out to ride your broomstick until your father returns."

Draco snagged a biscuit off of the tea tray and flopped himself down on a chair opposite his mother's position on the settee. That had been too easy. Narcissa wondered sometimes if her son had forgotten that his parents were Slytherins before him. Draco had finished his biscuit and was eyeing a plate of chocolates when they heard the front door open. It wasn't unusual for Lucius to Apparate only as far as the gatehouse on days when the weather was fair and walk the short distance back to the house. He opened the door himself as Narmin the house-elf made it to the entry hall just in time to be nearly smashed to death behind the thing as it swung fully open.

"Lucius, darling," Narcissa called, "we're in the drawing room." Lucius Malfoy strode intently into the room where his wife and son awaited him. His white blonde hair hung loose around his shoulders and his black and silver day robes were immaculate and tailored and made him look the vision of prosperity and taste. He crossed immediately to Narcissa, who offered him her cheek. He placed a tiny kiss on his wife's cheek and sat down next to her, snagging a chocolate off of the tea tray as he did.

"Hello darling," he greeted his wife. "Good morning son," he added.

"Morning, father," Draco answered. "How was London?"

"London was as it always is, I'm afraid," Lucius answered. "Full of Muggles and filthy air. I grow more disdainful of that piteous place all the time."

"Was it fourteen thousand this year?" Narcissa asked her husband as she lifted the teapot to pour him a cup.

"It was," Lucius replied, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him. Narcissa winked and grinned at him.

"You'd ought to be careful, Lucius," she warned. "You're liable to give it all away and there won't be any left for Draco." Narcissa had to stifle a chuckle as she saw the look on her son's face change from the mild annoyance he'd worn all morning to one of panic. "I'm only joking Draco dear," his mother assured him, "Your father couldn't give it all away if he tried. Your grandchildren's grandchildren will still be exorbitantly wealthy."

"That wasn't funny, mother," Draco chastised. Narcissa shook her head and chuckled. "Why do you give all this money away?" Draco asked his father, finally daring to walk the few steps across the room and pick up chocolates from the tray.

"I give money to that hospital, Draco," Lucius answered his son with a suddenly serious tone, "every day on the anniversary of your birth, because were it not for the efforts of those in their employ I would have been a childless widower fourteen years ago today. Every year I give a thousand more because I have one more year to be grateful for." Lucius turned his head and kissed his wife's cheek again.

"But you told me I was born here," Draco countered, thumbing through the chocolates in his hand to decide which one to eat next. "What does St. Mungo's have to do with it?"

"We were expecting you in August, Draco," Narcissa answered as she handed Lucius his teacup. "Cream and sugar, just like you like it dear," she addressed to Lucius with a kiss on his chin. "But you always have been independent," Narcissa told her son, "and you decided to come in June."

"And your mother had some difficulty," Lucius added as he swallowed his first sip of tea. "Perfect cup of tea, love," he congratulated his wife, kissing her temple. Narcissa caught sight of her son rolling his eyes. Lucius was always particularly attentive to her around this time of the year and, although she reveled in it, she had begun to notice that his attentions to her were inspiring no little annoyance on the part of their son. "She lost a lot of blood and it caused a heart attack, and she spent five solid weeks in a coma." Lucius snagged a muffin from the nearby tray and took a bite off of it.

"Lucius don't make more out of it than it was," Narcissa insisted. "It was four weeks. And it was a minor cardiac thing." She knew that it upset her husband greatly to talk about the events of that day and she'd rather not bring up something so unpleasant on such a fine morning.

"Anyway," Lucius continued explaining. "They did what they do. You were taken to St. Mungo's that morning; your mother as soon as she was stable enough to move, and fourteen years later I have a healthy wife and son." Narcissa leaned her head against her husband's shoulder. "They get a thousand Galleons for every year of your life each June the fifth. I never make a production out of it; I doubt seriously that anyone there now even recognizes the significance of the date. But it's significant enough to me." He squeezed Narcissa's waist and she grinned up at him. He then removed his arm from around her and pulled something out of his jacket pocket. "Draco," he called.

Draco looked up at his father just in time to see a small velvet box flying through the air toward him. He caught the box and pulled open its hinged lid. "Happy birthday son," Lucius offered. Draco looked into the box and reached to pick up the shiny golden object that lay within it. "Don't touch it!" Lucius warned. Narcissa frowned. That was never good. She swore silently that next year she would be consulted on the matter of Draco's birthday gift. "It's quite cursed," he told his son.

"Cursed?" Draco sounded excited and intrigued.

"It's fourteen hundred years old," Lucius told his son. "It's an Egyptian scarab beetle that was magically gilded alive. You move it with a _mobilus _or _locomotor _; you place it under the pillow of an enemy and it causes him to have dreams so violent that they become fatal if left for three consecutive nights." Narcissa snickered at her husband. She had no idea where he might find such items, but every year he seemed to buy Draco something more obscure and illegal than the last.

"You couldn't have just bought him a new racing broom?" she teased.

"I almost did that, too," Lucius confessed. "But it may be a while until there's Quidditch at Hogwarts again and it would be a waste to buy him a Firebolt now when next year there may be a whole new line from Stratus."

"What do you mean, 'a while until there's Quidditch'?" Draco asked. "Why won't there be Quidditch in the fall like every year?"

"I have it on good authority," Lucius answered his son, "that Hogwarts may be hosting an international competition this coming year and that Quidditch might be cancelled for it."

"I don't think I like that," Draco commented.

"And speaking of Quidditch, Draco," Lucius added, "as part of your birthday gift I had purchased a pair of rather expensive box seats to the final match of the World Cup of Quidditch this August, however it seems as though you and I will not be using them."

"What?" Draco protested. Narcissa could tell that her son had just become well and truly riled and she sincerely hoped that this would not turn in to a full scale temper tantrum. "Why not?" he asked his father.

"Because, Draco," Lucius answered, his voice cool and calm. "Minister Fudge was present at St. Mungo's this morning and as a gesture of gratitude for my contribution he has invited the three of us to join him in the Top Box for the finals instead."

"The three of us?" Draco asked. "Mum too?" Lucius chuckled and put his arm back around his wife.

"That would be the three to which I refer, yes." Draco's brow furrowed and Narcissa could tell that her son was readying an argument of some sort.

"But…" Draco shook his head. "Mum doesn't even like Quidditch, do you?" Narcissa shrugged.

"I don't particularly care for the sport, no," she answered, "it's a bit too violent for my taste. But I wouldn't dream of turning down an invitation from the Minister of Magic. And we do so rarely get the chance to appear in public as a family." Narcissa turned her head to face her husband. "I think it will be delightful." Lucius turned to her and kissed her directly on the lips.

"But…" Draco was obviously distressed. Narcissa regarded her son.

"Lucius," she said, "I do believe our son is afraid we might embarrass him." Lucius brushed a stray hair from her face and turned to Draco.

"And what might we possibly do to embarrass you?" he asked. Draco shrugged his shoulders and frowned.

"That." He indicated his parents' embrace. "Nobody else's parents are…" Narcissa wasn't sure whether to be upset or amused by her son's attitude.

"Then I pity them their loveless marriages," Lucius commented, his voice sounded very matter-of-fact and as cold as ice.

"I pity them their unattractive spouses," Narcissa added, sidling up even closer to Lucius. She grinned. Apparently Lucius found it as amusing as she did that their affection toward each other made their teenage son uncomfortable.

"I think it's shameful the way the two of you behave sometimes," Draco dared to tell them.

"There is nothing shameful about a man showing affection to his wife in his own home, Draco," Lucius corrected his son. Narcissa folded her hands in her lap and listened carefully. It wasn't often that Lucius was willing to talk at all about something as delicate as interpersonal relations and she was quite anxious to hear what he had to say on this subject. "The ability to sleep soundly in another's presence is not to be taken for granted," he told Draco. "I can only hope that you understand that one day."

"But at the World Cup of Quidditch," Draco defended. "There will be people there; people I _know_."

"I'll tell you what, son," Narcissa offered, placing her hand tenderly on her husband's knee. "You can sit between us at the match if you'd like. That way you can be sure to keep an eye out and see to it that we behave ourselves appropriately."

"I think I'll do just that," Draco informed them. Narcissa couldn't help but chuckle a bit. Her boy was certainly outspoken, but then he'd inherited that from his father. And she certainly couldn't fault him for wanting to maintain a certain degree of social propriety. That he had gotten from her. It had been some time since there had been occasion for Draco to be out with them anywhere significant and it did seem as though he may not be prepared for the way that his parents would actually behave toward themselves in public. Narcissa wasn't sure Draco had any reason not to fear some mild embarrassment at their hands were they to be seen in public acting like a pair of lovesick teenagers. What Draco didn't know, of course, was that the two of them had nearly twenty years of marriage behind them in which they'd managed a cool public persona. They were certainly well practiced at behaving themselves in public, and it was good for Draco to begin to learn the differences between one's public and private selves.

"It's settled then," Lucius stated. "I've already found a suitable hotel suite. We'll go at the end of July. The festivities will have begun already, and that's before those with the less desirable seats are mandated to come. The Notts and the Macnairs will be there, so you won't have to stay the entire time with your parents, Draco. You'll have Theodore to pal around with." Draco nodded. Narcissa couldn't help but notice the look of relief on her son's face at the mention of the fact that he wouldn't be forced to spend every minute of the trip with them. "Now go outside, Draco," his father instructed. "I'll be taking you back to school before dinner, so you had best take advantage of your one day's freedom." Draco did not need any more encouragement. He stood up and darted out of the drawing room and toward the back door to the manor.

"He didn't say thank you," Narcissa told her husband.

"He'll think about it later," Lucius countered. He then reached into an inside pocket of his robes and produced a box similar to that he'd given his son, only wider and flatter.

"Lucius," she sighed. "What is this?"

"You had more to do with Draco's birth than he did," Lucius reminded his wife, "and it was a worse day for you than it was for him. The least I can do is remind you of how fortunate I feel to have gotten through all that with my family intact." Narcissa closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around Lucius. It was rare, even on Draco's birthday, for him to mention how horrible those few weeks had been. She wasn't sure what had prompted this display of emotion, but she didn't mind it. She inhaled deeply and sighed in contentment into her husband's chest. "Are you going to open it?" he asked her. Narcissa sat up straight and pulled open the hinges on the black velvet box.

"They're beautiful!" she exclaimed as she stared down at the blue bracelet, earrings and brooch in the box.

"It's ancient Egyptian lapis," he told her. "Scarab beetles carved by hand from the stone. The etching in them is hieroglyphics to a magical incantation of protection and power."

"I shall wear them to the world cup," she told him, pulling out the bracelet for closer examination. "Now finish your tea before it gets cold."

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This is for bigred20, RenieandtheMoo, Miss Lucia Malfoy, and everyone else who read and reviewed "The Heart Wants What it Wants". "The Mark" stars the same Malfoys, only with the addition of a spoiled teenager. More soon- you all know me… I can't stop. Maybe another chapter today….

-MQ


	2. Chapter 2

**AUGUST 1994**

"Imogene Macnair! I don't remember the last time I was so excited to see someone." Narcissa grabbed her skirts and quickened her pace toward where her friend was sitting. The World Cup final had been tame enough, but the crowds at the Quidditch pitch were something else entirely. She'd spent the last hour or more clinging to the cape on her husband's robes as they tried to navigate the seas of people to exit the stadium. The purple carpeted stairs of the stadium had been tedious enough to navigate when it was only those in the top seats trying to get up them, but the madness of thousands trying to get out of the stadium had been almost too much. Narcissa had been fighting with herself all day not to have a nasty expression on her face; a feat she thought she'd been able to accomplish for just long enough to have been introduced to the Minister, but not much otherwise.

"Narcissa! Come here, sit down!" Imogene answered, rising from her own seat. Narcissa happily took her up on her offer and clambered into the Macnair campsite. She was glad to have found a small bastion of civilization in the midst of the madness of revelry. Imogene was sitting on one side of a small campfire in one of half a dozen brocade upholstered Chippendale chairs arranged in a semicircle. There was a rug on the ground and Narcissa was more excited than she cared to admit to not be standing on dirt any longer. She gladly lowered herself into one of the chairs and was immediately accosted by the Macnair house-elf who offered her a choice between a frosty goblet of wine and a steaming mug of tea. She took the wine goblet and dismissed the elf with a wave of her hand. "Wasn't the match exciting?" Imogene asked, refilling her own wine glass from a bottle set into a nearby ice bucket.

"I must say that I'm not such a big fan of Quidditch," Narcissa admitted, sipping the cool Riesling from her goblet. "And I must have forgotten the depths of my disdain of the unwashed masses."

"The crowds are dreadful," Imogene agreed. "I thought I'd never get out of there with all four of the kids."

"Where is your brood, Imogene?" Narcissa asked. She looked around for any sign of the Macnair children as well as to confirm that her own family had made it far enough into the campsite so as to be out of the commotion surrounding them. Lucius was chatting it up with Imogene's husband, Matthew, and Draco had found Theodore Nott.

"They're in the tent sleeping, the dears," Imogene answered. "Are you staying out here?" she asked. Narcissa sighed and put her cool goblet to her heated forehead. She set the glass down on a nearby side table and sat far enough forward in the chair to divest herself of her jacket.

"Oh heavens no," Narcissa answered. "I'm not so adventurous as you are, I'm afraid," she told her friend. "We've taken rooms in town." Narcissa sat back in her chair again and brought her drink to her lips again.

"Your husband spoils you," Imogene commented.

"I'll admit to that," Narcissa confided. "But not as much as he spoils that one," Narcissa pointed at her son, who seemed to be plotting something with Theodore Nott.

"Is that Draco?" Imogene leaned forward in her seat and looked toward the boys. Narcissa nodded. "He's as tall as his father," she commented.

"Nearly."

"I knew he was in my niece's year at Hogwarts, but I haven't seen him since he was barely walking," Imogene shook her head. "They grow up too fast."

"You're telling me," Narcissa mused. "Draco!" she hollered. "Come over here and meet one of my oldest friends." Draco said something in parting to Theodore and made his way over to his mother's chair. "Draco, this is Imogene Macnair," she said to her son.

"Pleased to meet you," Draco addressed her.

"Very nice to meet you, Draco," Imogene said to him. "I believe you know my niece," she said, "Millicent Bulstrode?"

"Millie's your niece?" Draco asked her. Narcissa had to giggle a tiny bit. Imogene was by far the most dainty and attractive of the Bulstrode siblings, and her brother Edgar was completely the opposite. Edgar had married a chunky Hungarian woman, and their daughter Millicent bore little to no resemblance to Imogene.

"She's my elder brother's daughter," Imogene answered. "Can I have our house-elf get you a drink?" she offered him. Draco shook his head.

"No thank you," he answered Imogene. "Mother," he turned to Narcissa, "Theodore and I want to go 'round to the bazzar and look at all the vendors and wander about."

"Check with your father, but it's fine with me," she answered him. She figured there was no harm in letting her son roam around with his friends for a while. "Oh, and here…" She reached into her jacket pocket and produced a small felt bag. "Take some money with you," she insisted. Draco took the pouch and darted away. Narcissa watched her son as he went to his father for permission. Lucius nodded at him and handed him another pouch of money. "See what I mean," Narcissa said to Imogene. "He'll be the only fourteen-year-old running about the campground with a thousand Galleons in his pocket."

"Lucius was an only child too, wasn't he?" Imogene asked. Narcissa nodded with a chuckle.

"How could you tell?" she asked sarcastically, reaching around for the wine bottle in the ice bucket. Narcissa refilled her goblet and leaned back to slouch in her chair. "How long have you been here?" she asked Imogene. "Has it been this loud the whole time?"

"It was louder an hour ago," Imogene told her guest. "The Irish are camped out all the way to the other side with the other Plebeians, so at least we're not dealing with any trash or foreigners."

"Well, that's a blessing," Narcissa agreed. "I'm actually quite impressed that you've managed to civilize one tiny corner of this rancid place."

"Oh, this is nothing," Imogene replied, "It took our hired man a week to get this all together, but the Averys put in a swimming pool."

"Really?" Narcissa was incredulous.

"Well you know that Charlton's investments have gone well lately and I guess that woman he married wanted to show off a little."

"Oh, what was her name?" Narcissa asked.

"Marnie," Imogene answered. "Marnie Ellen Avery. She's atrocious. Best of friends with Ivy Parkinson, though… as if that might surprise anyone."

"Oh, I only knew she was a tacky little gold digger, I had no idea she was actually evil." The two women laughed out loud. "Oh we're being terrible," Narcissa declared.

"I don't think it's so bad as all that." Narcissa had been so wrapped up in her own conversation that she hadn't noticed Lucius coming toward her. She snickered at his comment and gestured for him to take the seat next to hers.

"Hello, Lucius," she greeted him. "You remember Imogene."

"Yes, of course," he answered, reaching out for Imogene's hand. "How have you been, Mrs. Macnair?"

"Quite well, Mr. Malfoy," she answered, giving her hand to him. He bowed his head gallantly toward her hand and then sat himself back against the back of his chair. "I wish I could have kept the children awake," she told him. "I hardly recognized your Draco," she added.

"He's Seeker for Slytherin," Lucius told her. Narcissa reached her hand out to sit it upon the arm rest of her husband's chair. She loved it when steely cold Lucius Malfoy took a moment to brag on the accomplishments of his son. She loved that he was proud of Draco, and although she wished he would tell Draco that more often, she adored that Lucius was so openly pleased by him.

"Wow," Imogene commented, "My Brian wants to play Seeker, but he's unfortunately inherited the Bulstrode bone structure and I'm afraid he'll have to be satisfied with being Keeper or Beater."

"Well, he's only four years old, Imogene," her husband Matthew commented as he came out of their tent with an old-looking green glass bottle in his hand. "Perhaps he'll grow into a Seeker's build."

"You keep thinking that," Imogene mused at her husband.

"Drink, Lucius?" Matthew Macnair offered.

"Please," he answered. Matthew poured two glasses full from the large bottle and handed one snifter of the dark brown liquid to Lucius.

"Did you have money on the game, Malfoy?" Macnair asked him. Lucius shook his head.

"I don't like to gamble," he answered. "I used to make bets with Narcissa over things, but I found that if I won I had to forgive the debt out of a spirit of kindness but if I lost I was expected to pay up. I lost my taste for games of chance pretty quickly that way."

"Lucius, you make me sound horrible," Narcissa accused him. He chuckled a little and patted her hand.

"Cissy, I've known you since we were eleven," Imogene reminded her. "I'm not about to think that you're any more horrible now than you were a quarter century ago."

"Imogene, are we really old enough to be chronicling our lives by fractions of a century?" Narcissa asked with a wince. She would be thirty-nine in a little over three months, and she wasn't at all looking forward to forty in a year.

"Well, we're certainly no spring chickens anymore, Cissy," Imogene reminded her.

"Lucius, I believe these ladies have gone mad," Matthew observed. "Two of the most beautiful pure-blooded witches I have ever had the privilege to know and they're complaining about aging."

"As though they don't make potions for that," Narcissa kidded.

"As though you need anything like that," Imogene commented. She sneered sarcastically at Narcissa as she refilled both of their wine glasses. "You're as thin as the day you got married. I've started looking like the rest of my family."

"Oh no, a few pounds on a woman who's had four children; how ghastly." Narcissa sneered back at Imogene. The two of them giggled and Imogene raised her goblet.

"To growing old gracefully," Imogene proposed.

"Hear, hear," Narcissa accepted the toast and clinked her glass against her friend's.

"Macnair!" the lot of them heard the unmistakable voice of Jasper Goyle calling at them through the crowd. Jasper came dashing across the campsite and stopped just before the little fire. "Malfoy," he commented, "I didn't know you were here." He shook his head and addressed the bunch of them. "Crabbe and Avery have gotten their hands on a pair of Muggles!" he announced. "I don't know where they came from, but they've got the two of them acting like plug idiots, hanging in the air above Avery's swimming pool. You have got to come and see this!"

"Oh that sounds entertaining," Narcissa observed.

"I've got to see this, Matthew," Imogene insisted. The two gentlemen rose from their chairs to help their wives from their seats.

"Oh hello, Imogene. Narcissa," Jasper greeted the wives as though it were an afterthought. The two ladies nodded in his direction as they got up and followed the men toward the Averys' camp.

The Averys had a campsite just at the edge of the woods framing the grounds. And there really was a swimming pool. Narcissa rolled her eyes at the mad display of conspicuous consumption that was going on at the Avery camp. She'd once thought the Malfoys to have the poor taste she associated in her mind with new money, but there was no comparing the occasional Malfoy breaches of propriety with the overt tacky-ness that clung to the Averys like the proverbial white on rice.

As obnoxious and gaudy as the Averys were, Narcissa had to admit that she was more than just a little bit amused by what was going on over the swimming pool. There was a middle aged Muggle couple being made to dive in and out of the water and turn flips and bounce up and down. Narcissa laughed out loud, inciting a raised eyebrow from her husband. "I know I should be shocked," she defended herself quietly in his ear, "but it's late and I've had wine, and…well… it's funny." She shrugged her shoulders and then Lucius laughed out loud.

She exhaled sharply, very glad that Lucius was not upset with her for her less than proper behavior. "Draco Malfoy!" she exclaimed, shooting a searing glance across the pool. She had spotted her teenage son standing on the opposite side of the pool from where she and her husband were. Draco saw her at the same time and frowned. She gestured for him to come to where she was standing and kept an eye on him until he was near enough to speak.

"We ran into Crabbe and Goyle," he explained. "We came back here because Goyle said Blaise told him the Averys had put in a pool and we wanted to see for ourselves. This was already going on when we got here." Draco shrugged. She was sure that he was bracing himself for some sort of discipline, but Narcissa truly had none to offer. She didn't so much mind his being there. Narcissa just shook her head and smiled at her son. Just then, Lucius, who had been engaged in animated conversation with a few of the other onlookers, grabbed both of them by the arm and steered them back to the edge of the crowd.

"It's likely to get a bit rowdy around here very soon," he informed her. "You'd best be getting back to the hotel." Narcissa frowned, but nodded her head in agreement.

"Alright, darling," she agreed. "Draco, let's go."

"Can't I stay and watch. Mother?" he asked. Narcissa shook her head.

"It'll be alright, Cissy," he told her, "I'll watch out for him." She didn't know what Lucius was playing at, but he only called her Cissy when he wanted something.

"You'll be too into mayhem to look after anyone, Lucius," she snipped. She had no idea why Lucius might want Draco to stay out here, but if he thought it was alright, then it likely was. Lucius tended to look out for her ladylike sensibilities and she supposed that perhaps the breadth of the rowdiness of which he'd spoken would amount to nothing more than coarse words and mild violence. She turned and looked her son in his pleading eyes. "But I suppose you're getting old enough to begin looking out for yourself," she told him. "You may stay," she allowed. "But you listen to your father, and you stay out of trouble. If I get summoned to the ministry to fetch you, I'll pretend I never got the message." She arched her eyebrows at her son. "And that goes for you too, sir," she directed at Lucius. He put his hands on her shoulders.

"I promise to behave myself, Narcissa," he assured her. She smiled at him.

"Alright," she agreed. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "I'm off," she told the both of them as she Apparated away from the camp.

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Ayone who can find the Hitler quote in here wins the Death Eater Prize! It just happened. EEK! Thanks to all of those who've read and reviewed CH.1. :)

-MQ


	3. Chapter 3

"Mother, you should have seen it," Draco exclaimed as he burst through the doors to their hotel suite. Narcissa sat up straight on the small settee in the corner where she had spent that last few hours reading. She made a little effort to straighten her skirt and tapped her wand over her long cold cup of tea to warm it up a bit.

"Come tell me all about it," she encouraged her son, patting a nearby chair. Draco crossed to the chair and sat as he expounded on the events he'd witnessed. He snagged a bottle of butterbeer out of a nearby basket and cracked it open as he sat.

"It was crazy fun," he told her, taking a sip from his bottle. "Those two Muggles… their nasty little offspring showed up. And dad and the others, they had 'em floating sixty feet in the air. They paraded them through the whole campsite; blasting tents out of their way and scaring the dickens out of everyone that wasn't laughing as hard as they were. There was a huge crowd gathered around them, too. Everyone who wasn't scared witless really wanted a good look. And, dad and Macnair and Avery and all of them were wearing these white masks and long cloaks and tall pointy hoods. They looked like death incarnate. It was the most awesome thing I've ever seen."

"Masks and hoods?" Narcissa asked. She had to work very hard not to let her son in on what she was thinking. She calmly sipped her tea as her mind churned inside her head. If Lucius and his friends had really just paraded themselves through the campsite dressed in Death Eater garb, then her husband was about to hear no end of it from her. However, she would have to plan her strategy carefully to get Lucius to confess to such a thing. She knew that Draco had no intention of tattling on his father and she did have to stop her scheming long enough to congratulate herself for Draco's inability to recognize what he'd just been right in the middle of. They'd done well with Draco, and that she could be proud of; even if he did think that watching Death Eaters parading around was 'awesome'.

"Yeah mum," Draco answered. "It was mad fun. I ran into that nasty git Potter and his little friends: Weasley and the Mudblood. I think I had them good and scared- idiots."

"Don't call names, Draco," Narcissa scolded, barely able to keep her head on straight enough to correct her son. "It isn't done. We are above such pettiness, you should know better."

"You're the one who told me that there's a difference between what you do in public and what you do in private, mother," he contended. "I can call a spade a spade in front of my own mother, can't I?"

"Touché," she responded, crossing her arms over her chest. "You've inherited your father's gift for getting the best of me, I see." Draco shot her his smug smile. "But I'm still your mother and I can still ground you." She smiled at him even more smugly. "It's late, Draco," she told him. "You should get to bed."

"Mother," he whined. Narcissa shook her head. She had a bone to pick with Lucius when he got back to the suite and it would be better for all of them if Draco were sound asleep by then. "Can't I wait up until father gets back?" Narcissa shook her head. That would not do at all.

"No, dear," she answered. "I'm not even going to wait up until your father gets back. It's getting very late, and there's likely to be all sorts of interesting things going on in the morning now that this has happened. You do want to be awake and visible in time to make a breakfast appointment?"

"I'll get up," he promised her. Narcissa smirked at her son and shook her head. Another thing Draco had inherited from his father was his ability to sleep through anything and unwillingness to rouse on any given morning.

"Go wash up and go to sleep, Draco," she insisted. "If you ever want to be allowed out again unsupervised and without a curfew then I suggest you do so without another word." She looked at him in such a way as to indicate she meant business. Narcissa knew that her son would be preparing an even more voracious mental argument, which he was likely to present any moment now in a valiant attempt to stay out of bed longer. Even if Lucius came back right this minute they wouldn't let Draco stay awake to chat with him. She had always appreciated that she and Lucius were a united front when it came to Draco and that her husband would also insist on their son being locked into his room behind an _imperturbus_ before they got down to the arguing she was sure would be happening later.

Draco scowled at her, but he got out of his chair and walked toward his bedroom. She'd no doubt be hearing about how unfair she'd been not to let him wait up for his father to get back until this time next year, but she was more than just a little happy that her son had gone without too much arguing. "Good night, Draco," she called after him.

"Good night mother," he answered her as the door to his room closed with a half-slam. Narcissa stood from her seat and ran her hands through her hair, dislodging pins as she went. Rubbing the back of her neck with her hand, she ambled into the large bedroom to change into her nightgown. She had to think of just the way to broach the subject with Lucius. He'd never want to admit to any shenanigans, but if he had been involved in anything so asinine and dangerous as her son had just described to her, he needed to hear her opinion on it. She got changed out of her robes and into a chemise and dressing gown. She was tempted to leave her dressing gown open, as it was maddeningly hot in the room even with the door to the balcony standing wide open. But she decided that she'd be better equipped to give Lucius a righteous what for with her knees and bosom covered.

Narcissa paced back and forth across the bedroom a few times before deciding that movement only made her more uncomfortable in the heat. She sat on the edge of the bed, just where the breeze from the cracked door would hit her squarely, and resolved to sit still and wait for Lucius.

She didn't need to wait too long. It wasn't ten minutes before he appeared on to the hotel balcony; still dressed in his Death Eater robes and with his face still obscured by the bone white mask. Narcissa's mouth fell agape as Lucius stepped into the room and removed the mask from his face. "I thought I was going to have to work pretty hard to get you to admit to this," she told her husband as she rose from the bed and regarded him. "I wouldn't have dreamt that you'd actually come back here still…" She looked him up and down and shook her head. "Like that," she finished. Lucius took her by the shoulders and looked down at her.

"It was harmless fun, Cissa," he said to her. His voice sounded strange, and the gloves on his hands felt foreign and scratchy against her skin.

"What are you playing at Lucius?" she asked him. "Are you drunk?"

"Slightly," he admitted, still not letting go of her. "But that has nothing to do with…." She held up a hand to his chest.

"Go and change your clothes," she insisted. "You know I can't talk to you when you're dressed like this." It was the truth. It had been Lucius' own rule to begin with. He'd never wanted any bleed through from his life as a Death Eater to his life as a family man. So they had made a habit very early on of never conversing while he was dressed in his Death Eater's costume. Narcissa rubbed her arms where his gloves had touched her and ground her teeth as she waited for Lucius.

"Cissa, really it wasn't…" She heard his voice from behind her. She turned quickly to look at him. His was standing in the doorway to the ensuite bath in a pair of silk pyjama pants with his chest bare and his hair hanging loose.

"You're not playing fair," she accused him. "Trying to distract me by showing a little skin?" She shook her head at him. "But I can play too," she informed him, slipping out of her dressing gown and standing before him in her tiny summer satin chemise. He looked at her wickedly and she turned away from him. It was then that she managed to see something terrifying through the open doors to the balcony.

The Dark Mark hung ominously in the sky above the nearby campsite. Narcissa ran out on to the terrace, her eyes transfixed upon it. "Merlin's nightshirt!" she exclaimed. She reached the rail of the balcony and turned back to face her husband, who was walking slowly to catch up with her. "Tell me it wasn't your wand," she implored him, pointing madly at the shape in the sky. She spun back around to look at it again. "Tell me it wasn't your wand that cast the Mark." She was half hysterical as she tried to convince herself that she wasn't seeing what she was seeing. Lucius came up behind her and placed his hands on her arms.

"It wasn't me, Narcissa," he assured her. She spun around to look at him.

"Swear to me?"

"I swear it," he replied, looking her square in the eye. He was telling the truth. If there was one thing she'd learned about Lucius from having lived with him for nineteen years: it was that he could look anyone else in the eye and lie like a rug, but if he tried to so much as claim he hadn't eaten the last gingersnap he couldn't look her in the eye and do so. She let out a heavy sigh and leaned her head against his chest.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she asked, half angry, half exasperated. "What the hell were any of you thinking?"

"It was just harmless fun, pet," he answered. She shook her head.

"Harmless?" she repeated with disdain. "With half of the Ministry within casting distance? Whatever made any of you think it was a good idea?"

"There hadn't been that many of us in one place since the old days," he reminded her. "Macnair works for the ministry now, Avery is always traveling looking for investments…. We were all just acting out."

"And you let your son see you like that," she reminded him. "He called it 'mad fun', Lucius. Do you really think it's wise for Draco to see something like that? He's quite impressionable at this age, Lucius. And you know he worships you. Why would you let him see you like that… in your mask and hood and parading around as though the bunch of you ruled the world again? It's not safe."

"We were perfectly safe, Narcissa," he assured her. She rolled her eyes at him.

"There is no such thing as perfectly safe, Lucius," she rebutted. "No such thing."

"I promise it's nothing you should worry your pretty head about," he said.

"Don't patronize me, Lucius," she snapped, "not with that thing in the sky." She turned around again to face the now fading Mark overhead. Lucius put his arm around her waist and moved to stand next to her.

"Don't you ever think of the way things used to be?" he asked her. His breath was warm on the side of her neck as he whispered into her ear. "Don't you ever long for the old days, Narcissa?" She backed away from him a few inches and turned her body enough to look him in the face.

"I will admit that I look back on those times fondly," she said, glancing quickly at the Mark and then shifting her gaze back to her husband. "But long for them…?" she added. "I can't say I do." She leaned on the railing. "Those were passionate times for us, Lucius." She took in a deep breath and exhaled heavily. "We were so young," she mused, "and we had everything that's important to young people; a beautiful home, good friends, status and position, wealth, a life of intrigue, and something to believe in." She glanced over her shoulder at the Mark. "Our life was exciting then," she observed, turning back to face him, "but I will admit that I spent a great deal of it quite terrified. How many years was it until I was able to keep still when you were out of the house; secure in the knowledge that you would certainly be coming home?" She closed the distance between them and shook her head slowly. "I can't say that I'd trade the comfort and security of the last twelve years to get that excitement back." Lucius reached out and pulled his wife into an embrace as she continued. "If, by some miracle, the Dark Lord were to resurface tomorrow I wouldn't try to stop you if you chose to answer the call. I still believe in the cause. I still believe in all of it. But I came very close to losing everything I had in the wake of the Dark Lord's defeat, and I'm not inclined to invite that kind of turmoil into my life again."

"You'd never have lost everything, Narcissa," her husband corrected. "So much of the estate was already in your name and in Draco's that…."

"I wasn't talking about money," she countered, "or property. My cousin, my uncle, my father; all of them killed for betraying the Dark Lord. But for those who stayed true, the victor's justice was cruel. My sister languishes in Azkaban…." She trailed off. Narcissa shook her head and started again. "Do you remember when they put you on trial, Lucius?" she asked, wrapping her arms around him tightly. "Do you remember that Severus was having to give me some potion every hour to keep me on an even enough keel to eat or to sleep? Do you remember that I had to be sedated to sit in that courtroom or else I'd have risked all of our dignity by some impassioned outburst?" She tilted her head up until her chin rested on his chest. "I'd rather have you than the cause, or the Dark Lord, or any of it. Revolution is a pursuit for the young and idealistic. I'm quite content with things as they are now. I'd not go chasing after the old days, and I'd not encourage dragging any of that madness up again." Lucius moved his hands to the sides of her face and bent his head down to kiss her.

"I hadn't really considered the serenity offered you by the cessation of hostilities," he considered when his lips left hers. "And I'm sorry that you were frightened." He kissed the top of her head. "You know that I'd never hurt you intentionally," he affirmed. She nodded her head and placed a tiny kiss in the center of his chest. Narcissa was silently grateful to whatever had been in Macnair's green bottle; Lucius hadn't been so openly tender and contrite in years that she could recall.

"I know, darling." Narcissa slid her hands down to catch hold of his and stepped back. "It's late," she told him. "Come to bed," she implored. She watched as the expression on Lucius' face changed from concern to amused interest. He followed as she led him back through the open glass door and into the bedroom. "We'll have engagements to be met in the morning," she reminded him. Lucius let go of her hands and swept her up into his arms, setting both of them on the bed.

"But that's not until the morning," he growled in her ear. "There are hours to be filled until then."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Sorry about the maddening 24 hour lapse in updates. It snowed yesterday. And in some parts of the world that is no big deal, but in Seattle the world grinds to a hault. That turned what would have been an hour long commute into a FIVE HOUR TREK to get home from where I was dealing with work-stuff yesrerday. I thought this chapter through a dozen times on te way, but by the time I was home neither my brain or my fingers were able to make it come out on paper as anything more than icky madness. But now it's had a proper rewrite and is all better. More later today- as I am completely snowed in on my hill and can go nowhere but into the realm of fiction. THANKS to those of you who are reviewing as you read... it makes the snowy day warmer. :)

-MQ


	4. Chapter 4

**OCTOBER 1994**

"Lucius, tell me it's not true," Narcissa implored her husband the moment he walked into the room.

"Tell you what's not true, Narcissa?" Lucius asked tersely as he came into their private living room. He was pulling off his gloves and unfastening his cape from around his neck.

"You know very well what I am talking about, Lucius," she snapped back at him. His tone was not one she dealt with easily, and she returned his harshness with her own.

"I am sure I don't," he said back to her. He turned and nodded his head in her direction and then blew past her and through the door to the master bath and bedroom. A now very annoyed Narcissa stood from her seat by the window and followed her husband into their room.

"I'm sure you do," she argued. He was yanking his tie free of its knot before the oversized mirror in their walk in closet.

"Perhaps I do," he allowed, "would you care to enlighten me as to what exactly you are referring, Mrs. Malfoy?" Narcissa frowned at him. He was acting peculiarly cool toward her and she hadn't the foggiest idea why.

"Are you angry with me, Lucius?" she asked him. Lucius looked up from untying his shoes and shook his head.

"Of course not, dearest," he replied flatly. "Should I be?"

"No." She was entirely unsure as to the origin of his foul humor. Lucius pulled on his slippers and his smoking jacket and came into the room. He brushed past her and seated himself in one of the chairs facing the fireplace. With his wand, he lit the fire and poured himself a snifter of brandy from a decanter he kept on the end table just for that purpose. Lucius took a long and measured sip from his glass and picked up a book that he'd left on the ottoman. Narcissa put her hands to her face and shook her head. She had no clue what had gotten in to her husband, but she did not fancy the idea of having any sort of meaningful conversation with him in this mood. Narcissa turned to go back to her own book in the living room.

"You wanted to speak with me?" Lucius reminded her as she went toward the door. Narcissa turned her body to face him again. She wasn't sure what to say back to him. He was in some sort of a state and she feared that anything she said in response to him would incite his anger; something she'd spent years learning to avoid doing. The best way to avoid arousing Lucius' temper, she'd found, was allowing him to sit in silence until his demeanor mellowed.

"It can wait," she allowed quietly, turning again to leave.

"You sounded quite urgent," he observed, looking up at her over his book.

"You're busy," she said back.

"Come sit, Narcissa,' he insisted, it was not an invitation. She shrugged her shoulders and crossed to the chair next to him. "What is it?" he snapped. She had no recourse but to ask him about what she'd heard now.

"I received an owl today from Ellison Goyle. She said she'd had lunch last week with Arlette Connorsly and that Arlette sees the same hairdresser as Marlene Mitton, who works in the Ministry on the fifth floor. And Marlene said to Arlette that she'd seen a memo from the seventh floor, that maybe she shouldn't have seen but…"

"Good heavens woman, get to the point!" Lucius snapped. Narcissa started.

"Is Igor Karkaroff really on his way to Hogwarts?" Narcissa folded her hands in her lap and squared her shoulders. She hated Karkaroff. She hadn't trusted him as far as she could throw him since she'd met the man at a wedding twenty years previous. And she knew she'd hate him forever after what he'd done when the Dark Lord fell from power. Karkaroff was a turncoat and a traitor. Many of the Dark Lord's most faithful had been forced into lies and hiding in the wake of the defeat of their cause, but none had been so selfish and hateful as Igor Karkaroff. He'd practically done back flips to secure his own release from Azkaban. He'd named everyone he'd known to be involved with Lord Voldemort; people to whom he'd sworn an eternal bond of brotherhood were turned over to the Ministry's brutal justice thanks to him. Narcissa hated him more than she knew she had the capacity to hate anyone and she dreaded the thought that he might actually be in the vicinity of her son in less than a week's time.

"I'm afraid so," was all Lucius had to say by way of a reply. Narcissa nodded once and went to stand from her seat. "I have not dismissed you," Lucius informed her. Narcissa sat back down and furrowed her brow.

"I wasn't aware I needed your permission to move about my own home," she challenged. He shut his book and looked at her with a frown.

"So Karkaroff's presence at Hogwarts distresses you?" he asked, sipping at his brandy.

"For the moment, very much so," she answered. She was half annoyed and half relieved that he'd chosen to ignore her previous comment and continue with the conversation.

"For the moment, Mrs. Malfoy?" he asked her. She hated it when he called her 'Mrs. Malfoy' in that tone of voice. Such a formal address was rarely warranted between them and it usually meant that he was put out with her in some way that he expected her to already know about. This was one of the more upsetting quirks of Lucius' personality that she'd come to know in her years as his wife. When he was behaving like this, she preferred to be on the other side of the manor entirely.

"It would set my mind at ease if you were to tell me that I have nothing to worry about," she told him.

"I'm afraid I have no such comfort to offer you," he replied.

"So you're worried too?" she asked. Lucius ran his fingers through his hair and sighed.

"I'm afraid I'm quite as concerned as you are," he agreed.

"The idea of that man in proximity to our son…" Narcissa shuddered. "And with the situation on the Board of Governors…."

"I am quite aware of that situation, Narcissa," he snapped. "You need not remind me of such unpleasantness."

"My apologies, Lucius," she inserted quickly.

"You seem a bit jumpy this afternoon, my dear," he observed. "Is everything quite alright?" Narcissa shifted in her seat. He certainly was acting oddly.

"You…" She considered herself for a moment. "You've been acting as though you're unhappy. I'm just trying to keep from exacerbating that." Lucius bent over and replaced his book on the ottoman from whence he'd fetched it.

"Narcissa," he addressed her. "It would certainly take some willful and malicious act on your part to exacerbate any bad mood of mine." He smiled at her warmly. She allowed herself to sit back in the chair. A smile from him was enough to prove to her that she wasn't the cause of the unpleasantness that had been plaguing him all day. "And I am certain that you have committed no such act this afternoon," he added. Lucius leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I too have been distressed over the news that Karkaroff would be coming to Hogwarts. As you know, I had at one time entertained the notion of sending Draco to be educated by him at Durmstrang Institute. However, I believe a wise and beautiful woman of my acquaintance showed me the error of my thoughts in that vein. I do not trust Karkaroff, and I do not wish for him to influence our son. I do, however, trust Severus Snape. I have only this afternoon had it confirmed for me that Igor Karkaroff and his students will be spending the rest of the school term at Hogwarts by way of a lunch meeting with Ludo Bagman. I have already sent word to Severus to make certain that Draco has no contact with our old colleague. Severus has assured me that he can and will abide those wishes. So you see, my dear, there is nothing for you to worry about." Narcissa sat up straight and smiled at him.

"I should have known you had it handled," she said.

"Yes, you should have," Lucius confirmed. "But your singular concern for the welfare of our son is certainly commendable."

"I've some letters to write," she said to him, rising from her chair. "Will you be down to tea?" she asked. Lucius glanced over at the nearest clock and then back at her.

"Half an hour?" he asked. She nodded in reply. "Half an hour, then," he affirmed, smiling back at her. Narcissa blew him a kiss as she ducked back out of the bedroom to go and reply to Mrs. Goyle's letter.


	5. Chapter 5

**DECEMBER 25**

"Happy Christmas," Lucius wished his wife as he reached around to put a box on her lap. He had snuck up behind her and managed to startle her well and truly. Once she was able to fully catch her breath, Narcissa looked up and smiled at her husband.

"It's not Christmas yet," she contended, reaching for his hand and leading him onto the striped Louis XIV settee next to her.

"December twenty-fifth by my calendar," he corrected her.

"It won't be Christmas until Draco comes home next week," she told him. Narcissa's eyes went to their immaculately decorated twelve-foot tall blue spruce Christmas tree and the mounds of colorful packages beneath it. "Do you think he's having a good time with his friends?" Lucius kissed his wife's hand.

"I got an owl from him this morning. Apparently none of the boys in Slytherin had bothered to learn to tie their bow ties before leaving for school. And there was quite a panic with the Ball coming up. They've had to enlist the help of a graduate student; an Irish girl teaching history with Binns."

"Oh, that poor girl," Narcissa chuckled. Professor Binns was as much a fixture of the Hogwarts landscape as the Gargoyles and the Quidditch Pitch and he was more boring to listen to than any chunk of stone or bit of earth might be. Certainly no post graduate witch would have chosen to study teaching under him. "I didn't know they even had a graduate student at Hogwarts this year," she commented. "I guess that shows you how often Draco writes to me." Narcissa sighed and looked down at the wrapped box on her lap.

"He wrote both of us last month, didn't he?" Lucius encouraged.

"Yes," she conceded. "When he wrote to tell us about the Yule Ball and the fact that he'd asked that horrible Parkinson girl, the letter was addressed to us both."

"Have you met the girl, Narcissa?" he asked her. She had to admit that she hadn't, in fact, met Pansy Parkinson but she had known both of the girl's parents for as long as she could clearly remember and the best thing she had to say for either of them was that Christopher had been very smart to have left Ivy and cut his losses when he did.

"No, I've not met her," Narcissa answered. "But she's Ivy Macnair and Christopher Parkinson's child so she can't be any good." She crinkled her nose at her husband.

"Well," Lucius proffered with a shrug, "at the very least we can be grateful that he's not asked out anyone of dubious ancestry. At least he has his priorities in order." Narcissa frowned.

"Like preferring attendance at a Ball on Christmas instead of coming home and spending the holiday with his parents," she suggested. Lucius chuckled.

"Actually, yes," he answered her. "Did you know that senior Ministry officials will be in attendance at that party?" he asked. "And it's an official school function as well as being sponsored by the Office of International Magical Cooperation. It's his first real society event. I would not have expected him to choose not to go. In fact, had he even suggested coming home I'd have likely forbidden it."

"You're right, of course," she allowed, glaring at him. "I know you're right." She squeezed both of his hands. "I hate it when you're right," she added, "but you are right." Lucius leaned in and kissed his wife's forehead.

"And it's not the first Christmas we've spent without him," Lucius reminded her. "He stayed at school two years ago for the entire holiday, remember? We had to ship all of his presents to Hogwarts."

"That was different," Narcissa told him. "I was half dead with contagious Scrofungulus disease and the house was under quarantine. We told him he wasn't allowed to come home and to tell you the truth, I barely even remember that Christmas."

"You've got a point," he allowed, kissing her hand again. "But Draco will be home in a few days and he'll open his presents then. In the mean time, you can open one of yours," he encouraged, gesturing to the box he'd set on her lap.

"But I should wait," she countered. "We should open all of our gifts as a family."

"This one you'll want to open without Draco in the room," he assured her, his voice low and candid. Narcissa looked up at Lucius. He was up to something wicked and she was beginning to have a very good idea as to the contents of that package.

"I suppose I could make an exception for just one package," she simpered. Narcissa's face got warm enough that she was almost sure she was visibly turning pink.

"Are you blushing, my dearest?" he asked her. Nineteen years of marriage and he could still make her blush by the simple insinuation of what might be inside a Christmas package. She answered him with only a smile and a sidelong glance. Then she took her hands from his and tugged on the ribbon that tied the package together.

The ribbon came free with ease and she lifted the lid from the box. On top of a billowy pile of silk sat a beautiful and flawless strand of silver pearls with a silk ribbon closure in the same color as the silk it was sitting on. Next to the necklace was a bracelet of identical pearls with a smaller matching ribbon tie. "Lucius, these are beautiful," she sighed. "Put them on me," she asked him. Lucius shook his head.

"Look at the rest of it first," he insisted. Narcissa took the pearls out of the box and set them on Lucius' knee. Her hands reached down into the box and pulled out the silk. It was the softest thing her hands had ever touched. There was a silver silk ad lace chemise with a matching set of delicate lacy tap pants with silk appliqués. "Now I'll put all of it on you if you'd like," Lucius offered. Narcissa reached her hand up to stroke his cheek. It was just like Lucius to buy her a pair of see through pyjamas and a set of matching jewelry. He'd done it once before; on their first wedding anniversary, that time with rubies. He'd told her then that he liked the idea of being able to see her out in public wearing the jewels and think about the negligee that went with it. She still used those rubies to get his attention from time to time and she was quite pleased that he'd gone this route again.

"Just the pearls for now, Lucius," she told him. He snarled at her jokingly and took the necklace from his knee. Narcissa held her hair up off of her neck as Lucius reached around her to put on the necklace. As his hands came toward her, she managed to catch a glimpse of something in the opening of his shirt between the buttons on his sleeve and cuff. She let loose her hair and grabbed hold of his arm. Narcissa made no hesitation in unbuttoning his cuff and sleeve and moving his shirt out of the way to get a better look at what she thought she saw on his left arm. She heard Lucius suck in a tense breath as his fist closed. Narcissa ran her fingers over the soft fleshy place on his left forearm. "You hadn't told me about this," she said to him.

Other than surprise, Narcissa wasn't sure how she should feel about what she was looking at. Lord Voldemort had marked Lucius as one of his most loyal nearly a year before they were married. The resulting marking on his left forearm had been blistered and oozing at first, but had settled into an ink-black tattoo that had more or less remained in place and unchanged through their years of struggle. Soon after the Dark Lord had fallen, Narcissa had noticed the Mark had all but faded from his arm. She had nearly forgotten it had ever been there; and could have forgotten about it entirely had they never discussed it. But the topic of the old days had inevitably come up, several times each year Lucius had commented on the unnatural pink color of the skin on his arm where the mark had lain. But today his arm looked different. The outline of the mark was growing black again, so black in fact that it was readily visible through the fabric of his white broadcloth shirt.

"I didn't want to mention it until I knew what it meant," Lucius told her, withdrawing his arm and standing up behind her. Narcissa turned herself in her seat to look up at him.

"So you're concerned that it might mean something?" she asked, nervously fingering the silk negligee in her lap. Lucius buttoned his sleeve back closed and walked around to sit beside her again. Narcissa shifted herself to face him as he continued.

"The Mark appears in the sky in August and the Mark on my arm gets darker and clearer from that moment onward… I can't help but wonder if the two events are connected."

"Should I be worried?" she asked him. Lucius shook his head.

"Not yet," he qualified. "I've not had the chance to speak to Severus," he explained. "There is no way to know if something has happened that affects us all or if this is just some physical aberration that I should ignore. But don't you go worrying about it," he told her, cupping her face in his hands. "Not until we're sure there's something to worry about." Narcissa nodded.

"I trust you," she assured him. Lucius drew her face to his and kissed her sweetly.

"Try on your pearls now?" he asked her, reaching his hand to pet the silk that she'd been holding on to.

"I could be talked into that," she answered him coyly, knowing full well that he was not referring exclusively to the jewelery. He smiled wickedly down at her and laced his fingers through her hair as he replied.

"That's why I bought them," he whispered, kissing her again.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

I can't write a story without at least one three chapter day, it seems. Well, ok- let me qualify that. I can't seem to write a Lucius/Narcissa story without at least one three chapter day... they're quite persuasive. THANKS to WretchedOne, SupportSeverusSnape, and bigred20 for the wonderful reviews and encouragement. I'm glad that this story invaded my head and that I get to have more hot blonde fun.

-MQ


	6. Chapter 6

**MARCH 6 1995**

The Haught and Aristo Wine Boutique and Tasting Shop was a lovely place to spend an afternoon. Narcissa thought it just the right location for a clandestine meeting. That is, it was just the right place for a clandestine meeting to occur if the parties who wished to meet did not mind doing so in the midst of a bustling shopping district. It wasn't as though CordiAlley was terribly busy this time of year, but Lucius had pointed out to her that most truly successful secret meetings had not historically been held in well lit public places during daylight hours. Narcissa, on the other hand, had then proceeded to remind her husband that this particular meeting could just as easily have been for ordinary and honorable purposes. She argued that, were the three of them to meet in secret and behind a closed door in the middle of the night; anyone who might chance to learn of the meeting would certainly know that something dodgy was up. However, were the three of them to have a perfectly civilized glass of wine right out in the open, then they were certainly hiding nothing and might be discussing matters of mundane significance rather than the life-or-death issue at hand.

So it had been with a smile that Lucius had agreed to her proposal of meeting in Haught and Aristo. He'd even congratulated her on having thought of such thing as meeting in the open and under a pretense. Had he forgotten that she was just as much a Slytherin as he? Just because she had never chosen to involve herself in matters of intrigue and deception did not mean that she lacked the talent to do so successfully.

And Narcissa loved Haught and Aristo. The wines that came into and out of this shop were the best in the Wizarding World. They had elf mades, faerie dews, mulled and spiced reds and meads from all over the world, and every proper vintage of every Wizards vine that warranted mentioning. And it was the only public place Narcissa had ever entered whose appointments and furnishings were as opulent and plush as those in her own home.

Lucius held the door for her as the two of them entered the shop. Narcissa smiled as she listened to her heels clacking against the floor tiles. Ever since she was six years old she'd loved the sound of new shoes on a terrazzo floor. The two of them found a comfortable and private enough table near the back of the shop and Lucius pulled a chair out for her. She seated herself carefully on the oversized Georgian gentleman's chair and took hold of the wine menu, an inches thick volume bound in purple velvet which was sitting on the table in front of her. She regarded her husband as he seated himself across from her. "You're concerned that he's not here yet?" she asked, shifting her eyes to the sommelier behind the counter to signal him over.

"I thought he would have been here by now, yes," a tense Lucius answered her. She sighed and turned her head to the ever-nearing sommelier.

"Have you any of the Magical Montrachet, perhaps a 1975?" she asked. This was not a sommelier that she recognized, which was unusual seeing as she was regularly in the shop buying wines for the Malfoy cellars or cases of such for parties. She delighted a little in the size his eyes had just grown to in the wake of her request.

"Mrs. Malfoy!" she heard called from the far side of the shop. She looked past the sommelier and saw the owner, Benjamin Aristo, scurrying toward their table. He was a little man, with puffy white hair and oddly shaped spectacles that perched on his nose in such a way that they couldn't have been much use in anything but reading wine labels.

"Benjamin!" she called back to him, "how delightful it is to see you. I don't believe you've met my husband," she offered.

"I don't believe I have," the older man answered. "Benjamin Aristo, he addressed Lucius.

"Lucius Malfoy. Pleased to meet you," Lucius greeted him.

"And I you, Mr. Malfoy." Benjamin put a hand on the shoulder of the young sommelier. "I trust Donald is taking care of you fine folks?" he asked. Narcissa nodded. Donald, on the other hand, still had the shocked expression on his face that he'd worn since Narcissa had made her request.

"She asked for a '75 Montrachet, sir," Donald gulped.

"Montrachet?" Aristo sounded surprised. "For a tasting?" Narcissa chuckled and shook her head. She supposed that it would be quite irregular for someone to ask for a twenty thousand Galleon bottle of wine to drink in the shop.

"No, Benjamin," Narcissa answered, almost laughing outright; having caught a glimpse of Lucius' blank face. He knew nothing about wine other than if he liked what he was drinking at the moment or not. He'd always trusted her taste in such things as wines and cheeses and flowers and upholstery fabrics, but he seldom enjoyed when she could have a chuckle about one of these subjects when he hadn't the foggiest idea what was funny. Narcissa managed not to laugh aloud, and instead clarified her wish to Aristo. "That one is to take home."

"Ah." Benjamin nodded with a grin. "I am certain that we have just such a bottle," he told her. "I will see to it that your bottle arrives at your table shortly."

"Thank you, Benjamin," Narcissa said. "Now tell me, what's open for tasting today that you'd recommend?"

"I have a lovely Peles-Wallachia reserve Neagra that has been mulled slowly and perfectly right here in Haught and Aristo," he suggested.

"Is that what smells so divine?" Narcissa asked. Benjamin smiled and nodded proudly. "That will be perfect," she told him. "There will be three of us." Benjamin and Donald both bowed politely to her and walked away.

"You understood that?" Lucius joked with her. Narcissa nodded.

"Mm," she sounded, "You perhaps know practical things for a gentleman such as how to manipulate the legislative process or which causes to donate just what sum too and at what time of year to best suit your purposes. But I know best what wine to pair with any one of those victories." She crinkled her nose as Lucius smiled across the table at her. His face suddenly became very serious and she saw him raise his chin. He was looking toward the door and she could only suppose that their third party had arrived. It was only moments until her suspicion was borne out as she turned her head to greet their guest. "Severus," she smiled as Lucius rose from his seat. "It is lovely to see you again."

"My pleasure, Narcissa," Severus Snape answered her in his usual drawl. She raised her hand to him, which he politely took and kissed, before turning to shake hands with her husband.

"How are things with you, my friend?" Lucius asked as the two men settled themselves in chairs.

"I suppose, Lucius," Snape addressed his friend, "that my well being is more than a casual inquiry. I doubt that you have honestly invited me here to discuss your son's potions grade."

"Drinks are coming," Narcissa practically hissed at the men. She then replaced her harsh expression with the smile that had been present moments ago and looked up at Donald, the sommelier, who had returned to their table with three crystal mugs full of steaming red wine. "Thank you, Donald," Narcissa addressed him, reaching into her purse for gold to pay the tab.

"Mister Aristo says this is on the house," Donald told her. Narcissa nodded. It wasn't really a surprise.

"Well, then, please extend our thanks to Mr. Aristo," she offered. Donald nodded to her and bowed before walking away. Severus took hold of his glass and shot Narcissa what she figured was a grin; the subtleties of Severus Snape's facial expressions were still a mystery to her even after nearly twenty years of friendship.

Narcissa adored Severus Snape; he was one of her husband's oldest and dearest friends and as far as she was concerned he was the most loyal and honest person ever to come out of Slytherin. Severus had betrayed no one in the wake of the fall of the cause and yet he had managed to save not only himself, but many others who would have fallen victim to the harsh justice being meted out by the ministry. Severus had 'turned coat' according to the people who had vanquished them, and he had done so in time to be fully in the trust of the victors before things like arrests and trials came about. He'd sat quietly in Dumbledore's corner during all of the proceedings, whispering on occasion to a barrister or even Dumbledore himself. He'd backed up every claim of every accused Death Eater who claimed to have been tortured into madness or under the Imperious Curse. Every day Severus sat before the Wizengmot, his face expressionless, his demeanor contrite, and he lied through his teeth to save anyone who tried in the least to save himself.

And every night he steeled away to Malfoy manor. Narcissa hadn't known Snape well prior to her wedding, but he'd stood with Lucius under the canopy that morning, and she'd even danced with him once that afternoon. He'd become a fixture in the manor in the years of struggle, and had been the only one Lucius had trusted to prepare the potions required when she was ill after Draco's birth. With Lucius locked up someplace (it might have been Azkaban; no one was ever certain and no one dared ask) awaiting trial, Narcissa had been alone and hysterical. The nanny even made a point of avoiding her and Narcissa had to make certain to be quite out of her way if she wanted the girl to handle things like diaper changes. Severus had come to her on the second night of this, and had given her something to help her sleep. He made many return trips; sometimes it was sleeping potion, sometimes he came bearing elixirs and draughts the origin and uses of which she had no real idea. He put himself in great personal peril to do so, but he came to her regularly. If Dumbledore or any of his disciples had found out that Severus was still associating with the family of a suspected Death Eater, he could be charged with collusion and find himself at the bar. But still, he came. It was through his potions alone that Narcissa had managed to be appropriately sedated yet cognizant as to attend her husband's trial.

They had been friends ever since. Narcissa trusted Severus implicitly, a rare thing for any member of the Black or Malfoy family to extend to someone outside their blood relations. "On the house, Narcissa," Snape commented on the wine. "I take it that you are quite the honored guest in this establishment." Narcissa rolled her eyes at him.

"I've just put in an order for a bottle that will set us back more than twenty thousand galleons," she explained. "Think of this as a free gift with purchase." She took a generous sip from the mug in her hand.

"Now Severus," Lucius addressed the other man, "before I manage to wrap my mind around the fact that my wife has just spent more than some people earn in a year on a single bottle of wine, I will confirm for you that Draco's potions grade is hardly my concern at the moment."

"Your wife has impeccable taste," Snape said back. "And as I said before; I was aware that Draco's academic performance was merely a pretense for us to meet this afternoon. As your son's head of house, it is perfectly acceptable for us to meet to discuss his schooling. And I find your choice of location ideal."

"You can thank Narcissa for that," Lucius told him. "I'd have done this the old fashioned way."

"In the current climate," Snape offered, his hands around the warm mug of wine, "I believe hiding in plain sight to be a most effective means of covering our tracks. You've a talent for such things, Narcissa," he said to her. "I am impressed."

"Thank you, Severus," she answered him. She lowered her voice a little. "And I'd also like to thank you for your efforts concerning a certain visiting Headmaster and my son." Severus nodded to her and then turned back to Lucius.

"And I suppose it is this visiting Headmaster that you have brought me here to discuss?" Lucius took a small sip from his glass and nodded.

"Yes," he answered. "Have you any indication that there's something foul afoot, Severus?" Lucius asked, shifting his eyes to his left arm.

"Something foul," Severus repeated, fixing his eyes on his own left arm. So it was happening to all of them. "The traitor Karkaroff has been to see me no less than twice since his arrival on campus to point out what I think all of us at this table are aware is happening." Narcissa took in a deep and shaky breath and nodded her head once.

"Do you know of any others, Severus?" Lucius asked. Snape shook his head.

"I've not had occasion to speak with anyone as to this…issue," he answered. "As my commitments at the school have taken up much of my time, I have not managed to venture out to investigate this phenomenon."

"But if this is happening to the three of us, then likely it's happening all over. I am curious as to the scope of the…" Lucius thought for a moment and glanced again at his arm. "Increasing darkness," he decided on a term. "I would be interested to learn how many of us it affects and whether or not this extends outside of the inner circle."

"It is unfortunate that we are not able to gather without raising some suspicion," Snape asserted. "It would be of great benefit to us all were we to discern how far reaching the phenomenon has become. Perhaps then we may set ourselves on a course to discover what it means."

"It's easy to gather without raising suspicion, Severus," Narcissa asserted.

"What are you thinking, Narcissa?" Lucius asked her. He had a very stern look on his face and there was admonition in his eyes. Perhaps she'd just overstepped her bounds by inserting herself into a conversation on a topic of which she knew very little, but she thought she had the solution.

"I'm thinking of a party, Lucius," she told him, a sly smile coming across her face. "I'm thinking of a grand ball, to be held on the vernal equinox. I think that our twentieth wedding anniversary certainly deserves such a grand and auspicious occasion; and we certainly would be remiss if we did not invite all of those who were with us to celebrate our nuptials. We could have everyone in a single room and never raise so much as an eyebrow in suspicion."

"Your wife is very astute, Lucius," Severus commented. "And quite correct," he added. Lucius had a wry smile on his face as he reached across the table, took her hand in his and kissed it.

"You are as cunning as you are beautiful," he told her. Narcissa smiled warmly at her husband. It wasn't often that he complimented her in front of other people, even close friends like Severus. It wasn't the first time she'd hosted a party as a pretense for a Death Eater meeting; it was just the first time in over a decade. She couldn't wait to get home and blast the cobwebs from the ballroom.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

That's a real bottle of wine in case you were wondering. According to Forbes (home of the fictional15, featuring Lucius as the 12th richest fictional character alive) a 1978 Montrachet was the most expensive drinkable bottle of wine ever bought/sold. And Narcissa wanted a '75; not as boutique a vintage, but older and harder to find. I love wine! Thanks for all the reviews and I'll have more later!!

-MQ


	7. Chapter 7

**MARCH 21 **

"Shall we dance, my dearest love?" Lucius' invitation was whispered quietly into her ear so as to indicate to her that his intentions for the evening went far beyond dancing with her. Narcissa grinned sweetly at him and answered.

"I'd love to," she said, giving him her hand, and loudly enough for all who were sitting near her to comprehend. It was a game between them, really. Lucius had a delicious habit of insinuating something lewd or at least carnal to her quietly whilst they were in public or in the middle of a crowd. Sometimes he would even come right out and say exactly what he had on his mind, particularly when his ideas were on the more creative end of his list of preferences. And he would do this so quietly, so smoothly, that all around them would never be able to guess anything was being exchanged between them beyond a casual invitation to dance or an inquiry as to her well being. Narcissa's part in this was to remain apparently unaffected by his comments and to fabricate some answer that might fit with an appropriately pedestrian inquiry. And although this invitation to dance had been innocent enough, his tone was truly lecherous and he would certainly never have called her 'dearest love' within earshot of another human.

With one eyebrow raised, he led her onto the dance floor and into the midst of the waltzing couples who were already enjoying the stirring music from the string section and assorted woodwinds in the front corner of their ballroom. The party had been in full swing for nearly two hours and the two of them had barely so much as seen each other in the flurry of greeting old allies and tending to the particulars of the gathering. The music was changing to a strange combination of a waltz and a minuet that Narcissa recognized as a piece called "Perpetual Anticipation." Narcissa found it quite amusing that they were having such a charged conversation to the tune of such an appropriately titled piece of music. "I am not at all opposed to dancing," she said to him, "but as for any other synchronized tandem body movements…" She enunciated each of those words as though they were part of some dark incantation. "Let us not get ahead of ourselves." She moved with him in the rhythm of the waltz, but looked him directly in the face. "Have you managed to glean any pertinent information?"

"I'm afraid not, my pet," he answered her. "Although I almost have to assume from the persons who went to greater lengths to attend this soiree than is normally in their character to go to that perhaps all of us do share a similar concern." Narcissa nodded. That made sense. She flashed Lucius her most expressive smile for just a fleeting moment and then her face fell again to the thoughtful expression she'd worn before. "What was that for?" Lucius asked her.

"Fudge was looking straight at me," she told him. "Better he's none the wiser as to why we're really throwing this party." Lucius nodded.

"I would certainly have preferred spending our anniversary alone with my wife," Lucius told her. He pulled her slightly closer to him as they whirled effortlessly around a corner, and leaned his head toward her ear. "I'd have liked very much to watch you sip that very expensive wine without benefit of your robes." Narcissa winked at him.

"The wine is in our bedroom for whenever we are able to retire," she informed him. "I have assured that it will be at the ideal temperature, and it's been opened to be allowed to breathe. The wine will be perfection once we get to it." She steeled herself again. "But I fear that will not happen near soon enough if we're not able to get the information we're after."

"Have you managed to learn anything?" he asked. Narcissa had to admit she was more than the tiniest bit surprised by his question. She'd never been involved in any of his dealings vis-à-vis Lord Voldemort and she'd really not expected to be asked to participate in tonight's intrigue. She was therefore quite pleased with herself that she did have an answer.

"I have," she confirmed, a self satisfied simper crossing her features. "The lovely woman who married Christopher Parkinson last year, Nancy is her name- not that that matters, but she told me that she's so pleased that our weather has been so warm since they've been here because Christopher's been freezing cold since September. She's terribly worried about him; says he even sleeps in long sleeves, but that he absolutely refuses to see a mediwizard no matter how many times she insists. Well, Nancy's a good bit younger than we all are and I suppose that she'd be none too pleased if she found out that Christopher had been a Death Eater. Did you know that this is their first trip back to Britain since they met? He's had them living abroad, moving about all the time. My guess is that's so she won't find out about his past. But he can't run from his own arm, Lucius. They were in Jamaica for the winter and still he wouldn't so much as roll his sleeves up. If I were trying to hide something incriminating on my forearm, I know that freezing cold would be my excuse. Likely he's taken a draught of something to bring his temperature down, too. It's more believable if he's not perspiring."

"You have a true gift for espionage, Narcissa," Lucius congratulated her. "You've known this woman for barely an hour and she's already told you what her husband sleeps in."

"Well, she's certainly no trouble. I don't think she's ever seen the inside of a manor house before and I think she'd tell me what color knickers she was wearing if it seemed I cared to know. That could have something to do with the fact Christopher hasn't told her anything, too. She has about the candor of pack of fox hounds. I've not really accosted any of the other wives yet," she told him. "I just had a feeling that Nancy would either crack right away or not at all. I'm disappointed that Imogene couldn't be here; I mean, I'm glad you'll have the chance to speak with Matthew, but Imogene would have come out and told me anything I asked her to, you wouldn't have needed to talk with Matthew if she'd come."

"You're so sure?" Lucius sounded genuinely doubtful of her claim that Imogene Macnair would spill anything Narcissa requested of her.

"Of course I'm sure," she answered him with a sarcastic scowl on her face. "I'm the only one she's told most of the secrets of her life to. She told me when she had her first kiss, and when she lost her virginity and when she and Matthew got secretly engaged; back when Ellison was still chasing after you and it seemed that Imogene would never get permission to marry because her older sister might die a spinster. Imogene and I knew everything about each other when we were in Slytherin together and we still share the more remarkable secrets of our lives. She was the first person I ever told I was pregnant, and the only person other than you who I told I was pregnant with Draco, and she told me before she even told Matthew when Brian was on the way. I even knew when Matthew took the Mark to begin with, so I'm sure that she'd be more than willing to tell me if it was coming back to him."

"Should I be concerned as to the amount of knowledge of our private affairs is known by Imogene Macnair?" Lucius asked her. His curiosity sounded to be somewhere between sarcasm and annoyance.

"Of course not, darling," she answered him. "The majority of what she knows about you and I ends around the time you snatched me in to that alley in Hogsmeade and plied me with chocolates to try to get me to cancel my plans and go for a drink with you. I was trying to figure out if you had been flirting with me and Imogene was quite the expert on the subject by then. Pretty much anything after we finished school we left to the other's imagination. Schoolgirls chatter about prospects and conquests, Lucius," Narcissa assured him, "but a lady doesn't kiss and tell." Narcissa looked adoringly at her smiling husband. She had been guilty of a precious few improprieties where their relationship was concerned, but none so heinous as being indiscreet. She could look back at their twenty-odd year association with pride in that. There had been the night they first kissed; when they both thought they'd wronged the other, and night she'd allowed him to stay in her bed although they were not even formally courting each other and there had been that Halloween when she failed miserably at trying to seduce him even though they were engaged; other than those few slips in etiquette, she had never wronged him by word nor deed. And he had been equally considerate of her. Narcissa was fully certain that she could trust Lucius with anything, and she had to admit that she was quite thrilled that he was involving her so closely in this particular pursuit.

"I love you, Mrs. Malfoy," he whispered, so softly that Narcissa made out what he was saying more from the shapes his mouth made than by the sound of it. She had learned years ago to discern such words even with no sound attached, and even in very low light. There had been nights many years ago when he would come home impossibly late, and not know he'd woken her. He'd seem so careful not to disturb her that she would feign slumber through cracked eyelids and she would be able to make out the shape of his mouth telling her he loved her silently.

"And I you darling," she said back to him. The musical selection changed again. Narcissa hadn't even noticed that the string section had been added to by several horn players and a gentleman with an accordion. As the bouncy strains of the folkish tune sprang to her ears, it occurred to Narcissa to ask; "Have you passed the word, Lucius? Does everyone know to go to the living room now?"

"Yes, darling," he assured her, "I've taken care of that. The gentlemen all know that this song is the signal. And you've done your bit?" Narcissa nodded at her husband.

"I've charmed the dickens out of that room, Lucius," she confirmed. "There's no way little Nancy Parkinson or anyone else who's not on the 'list' so to speak will get inside that room. And even if they do somehow manage, they'll not hear a thing."

"You've done well for us, my pet," Lucius congratulated her. "You were always better at these things than you give yourself credit for."

"You flatter me, darling," she said back to him, enjoying for the moment the punchy allegro of the music. "But you had likely best be going. If anyone hears the signal… well- the spells don't properly activate until you're in the room."

"One more dance on my return, love?" he asked. Narcissa walked with him toward the edge of the dance floor and squeezed his hand.

"Just don't forget the bottle of wine downstairs," she reminded him. Lucius leaned down to kiss her cheek and whispered to her.

"It's all I can do to not to ignore the party and the mission and take you downstairs right this minute," he growled. Lucius placed a tiny kiss on his wife's cheek and turned to leave the party. "I'll be back directly," he assured her. Narcissa sighed as she watched her husband leave the party, followed gradually by several of his former associates. She spun around and watched her party. Very few of the other guests seemed to notice the veritable parade of former Death Eaters streamed out of the ballroom. She thought to make another pass through the room and further attempt to ensure the enjoyment of her guests when she was given pause by the irony of the tune they'd chosen to use as a signal. It had been the only song that either she or Lucius had been able to think of that would be instantly recognizable to the former Death Eaters among them and yet seem innocuous enough to the other guests. She'd last heard it during Edgar and Isabelle Bulstrode's wedding reception, but it had been a favorite of hers in her childhood. Several guests were dancing happily to the tune of the song, all of them seemed oblivious to the words that fit the melody. Narcissa thought on the events taking place in her second floor parlor and chuckled a little as she sang the lyrics under her breath.

"_Those were the days my friend, we thought they'd never end; we'd sing and dance forever and a day. We'd live the life we choose, we'd fight and never lose; those were the days- oh yes those were the days."_

How tragically apropos.


	8. Chapter 8

"Lucius darling, tell me it's alright that I'm concerned?" Narcissa lay back against the cool marble of the bathtub and reached through the bubbles to pick up her nearby glass of wine. Lucius was examining his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he tied back his hair. He fidgeted a bit as he leaned in closer to his own image. Twenty years ago it was a rare occasion to see a crease at the corners of his eyes; they only showed themselves a part and parcel of a particular smile. Now, time and nature had taken just enough toll on Lucius' skin that the tiny creases at the corners of his eyes were making themselves permanent. Narcissa didn't mind at all; it reminded her daily of the way his smile made her feel even before she knew she loved him. Lucius, on the other hand, was maddened daily by the appearance of tiny lines on his face.

"It's alright if you're concerned tomorrow," he said to her. Lucius turned from the mirror to face her, his hair now properly fastened and a firm expression on his face. He tucked the towel around his waist a little bit tighter and took a few steps toward her, snagging his own glass of wine as he went. "But tonight we're not going to worry about it." Narcissa frowned over her shoulder at him; that was certainly easier said than done. She grinned as best as she could as Lucius closed the distance between them and sat next to her on the ledge of the bathtub. He took a sip from the glass in his hand and nodded once. "Excellent wine, love," he congratulated, bending down to kiss her. She gladly offered her lips to him for a moment. The kiss was brief, and as he leaned away from her again he added, "I don't necessarily know that it's twenty thousand Galleons worth, but I do quite enjoy it."

"So now you're going to be put out with me over the wine selection?" she asked. She was almost certain he was joking with her, as he'd rarely criticized her spending habits prior, but still it was worth the trouble to know how he actually felt about this extravagance.

"Mercy no, Narcissa," he answered, his finger swirling around the thick layer of bubbles in the bathtub. "It's our anniversary. And I know you have impeccable taste, love. I'd never question any bottle you bought solely for our consumption even if it cost forty thousand. The only complaint that I have to register is that when I said earlier that I would very much enjoy watching you partake of it without benefit of your robes, I did not mean with a sea of suds to block my view." She switched hands with her wine glass and reached for his left arm.

"It's gotten even darker," she observed, running her finger along the skull and serpent tattooed on her husband's arm. "Can you feel it?" she asked. "Does it hurt at all?" Lucius sipped his wine and shook his head.

"No," he answered. "It's been quite tame. I've felt a tinge a few times, but nothing like the way it used to feel. And it's been still," he added. "It hasn't moved in the slightest."

"And it's happening to everyone?" she asked, taking another sip from her glass as she let go of his arm.

"Everyone I spoke with tonight," he confirmed. "Peter Crabbe, Jasper Goyle, Matthew Macnair, Tiberius Nott, Charlton Avery, and we know from Severus that he and Karkaroff are experiencing the same thing. I can only suppose that those who were unable to attend this evening's function: Dolohov, Bella and Roddy, Rabastan, and that deplorable twit Wormtail are no doubt experiencing the same thing."

"What about the others?" Narcissa asked. "What about Edgar Bulstrode and Christopher Parkinson, Jackson Davis… and the other followers who weren't part of the sacred circle? Is it only the thirteen of you or is it happening to everyone?"

"Seems as though it's everyone," Lucius answered, switching his glass from his left hand to his right. "None of us has any idea what it means." Narcissa took his glass from out of his hand and set it on the far side of the bathtub. She then took hold of both his hands and pulled him toward her. Lucius spun in his seat and then stood up with his feet in the soapy water. He reclaimed one of his hands to unfasten the towel from his waist and, casting it aside, he settled himself in the warm water. Narcissa leaned forward and handed his glass to him, which he took with a smile before leaning back against the opposite end of the tub. Narcissa sipped her wine as she thought for a moment.

"Is there any way we might look it up?" she asked. Narcissa had always been sort of innately bookish. She figured she owed that to the fact that she was the youngest of three girls and that her only younger cousins had been boys and she was therefore left to entertain herself for large portions of her childhood. At school, she'd grown quite fond of reading on the Dark Arts and had, in fact, managed to give herself quite an education in such despite the best efforts of the staff at Hogwarts to see to it otherwise. She wondered now if any of the darker volumes in the Malfoy family library, or their private collection for that matter, might contain information that could help them solve the mystery of the Marks.

"Look it up, Narcissa?" Lucius questioned her. "I doubt the Dark Lord ever gave an interview to the _Daily Prophet_ in which he decided to share with the world exactly what transpires when a Death Eater takes The Mark and therefore the precise functionality of thus."

"Well, of course he didn't, Lucius," Narcissa half-snipped back at him. "And you know full well what I mean by that." She took another sip from her glass and sat forward, leaning her elbows on her bent knees and her wine glass in both hands. "All magic has to come from somewhere, Lucius," she reminded him. "And even though the Dark Lord was possibly the most powerful wizard since Merlin, he could not have created the magic of The Mark out of nothing. Something had to exist for that magic to be created. If we can find references to similar markings: perhaps the Knights Templar or the Order of Yakuza, some reference to similarly functioning magic…. If we can find reference to any magic that seems to bind an Order together in the same way that the Dark Mark binds Death Eaters (and I'd be particularly keen on finding an Order that has fallen such as what happened to our cause) then we may perhaps find some clue as to what the darkening of the mark on all of your forearms really means. If it means anything at all…."

"You know, my dear," Lucius commented, "you may just be on to something." Lucius nodded and regarded her with a most thoughtful expression. "If there are, or have been in the past, similar Orders for whom the initiation was like enough to our own as to produce a similar physical manifestation and were any of those magical Orders or the leaders of such to have been vanquished by a foe and then somehow reborn, I can imagine that the manifestation of the Markings that bound them could give us some insight as to whether or not what is happening to members of our own Order is of more than passing significance."

"Exactly," she agreed, grinning widely at him. "I believe I've got a bit of a research project to do now. I'll start in the morning. Perhaps we should try and host another gathering; maybe over the summer. We can invite everyone and they can bring their children along. We'll say it's a party for Draco. He won't mind; I'm sure he'd love to feel like he's in on this whole affair. I think it may be pertinent to our well being to keep in close contact with the others."

"May be," Lucius agreed with a nod. "I must say that I find myself horribly out of practice at the business of such intrigue."

"Well, darling," Narcissa reminded him over her glass, "it's been a dozen years."

"True," he acknowledged. "Quite true. But still I believe I may have lost my flair for such things."

"Nonsense," she insisted. "And if you've lost your lust for it, I say good riddance. We were doing just fine before all of this madness started up, and we'll do fine once it dies down again." Narcissa leaned back against the end of the bathtub again, smoothing the bubbles over her shoulder with one hand as the other kept hold of her wine glass.

"And what if it doesn't?" Lucius asked her. "Die down, I mean. What if this is the beginning of something, Narcissa? What if the cause is rising up again?"

"I told you once before, Lucius," she reminded him, "that if by some miracle the Dark Lord were to be found alive and wish again to seek power, I would in no way hinder your return to his side. And I stand by that. I do hope that you'll consider any decisions to rejoin the Order in its mission seriously and with regard for the well being of your son, but I have no objections to your choosing to return to a fight that was ended before its time. And I would certainly hold no compunction against your choosing to reclaim your place in the Dark Lord's sacred circle if he were to call you. If it is not in fact the Dark Lord who is causing this to happen to you all," she looked him in the eye and sighed, "then I leave it to you to decide if the call is sincere and the cause is worth fighting for again. It was twenty years ago tonight that the Dark Lord lay his mark on my spirit, and I pledged to him my devotion. I do not take lightly any of the vows I made that day. I hold as true to those vows today as I did when I spoke them."

"Do you remember what the Dark Lord said to me, Narcissa?" Lucius asked. Narcissa shook her head.

"I only remember that he was the first person to ever call me 'Narcissa Malfoy'," she answered. "I'd been Narcissa Black up until that very morning and no one had yet the occasion to address me by my married name."

"He said, 'you have done well, Lucius'," her husband recalled. "He congratulated me on how wonderful you were." Narcissa smiled warmly at him. She hadn't really forgotten that, had she? It seemed like more than a lifetime ago.

"You oughtn't forget such wise words," she instructed, moving from her reclined position to sit on her knees in the middle of the tub. Lucius set down his glass and then removed hers from her hand, placing it on the nearby ledge next to his own. He took both of her hands and pulled her toward him.

"I remember that every day," he assured her. "I've been very lucky." Narcissa wrapped his arms around her as she turned to rest her head against his chest. She sighed heavily.

"We both have," she corrected. "Very lucky indeed."


	9. Chapter 9

**APRIL 19**

"I'm awake," Narcissa groaned as she shifted in her chair. She raised her heavy eyelids and glanced at the clock on the mantle. It was almost two in the morning.

"You are now," Lucius clarified. She looked up and saw him standing behind the chair she was sitting in. Or rather, the chair she was sitting across. She'd slung her feet over one of the armrests of the wing back chair and reclined against the opposite corner. It occurred to her that she likely looked like a plug idiot slung across the chair like this.

"I wasn't sleeping," she assured him. Lucius walked around to kneel in front of her. He picked the open book up off of her lap, closed it and placed it on the nearest table.

"You were snoring, Narcissa," he informed her. Narcissa shook her head and smiled at him through a barely stifled yawn.

"You're a terrible liar, Lucius Malfoy," she accused. "I do not snore."

"I believe I am more the expert on that madam," he argued. "Having spent nearly every night for the past twenty years within inches of your breathing, I can attest that you do." Narcissa snickered at him as she sat up a little straighter and tried to adjust her legs so that she was properly in the chair.

"It's a moot point," she argued, "since I wasn't asleep anyway. I was just resting my eyes." Lucius shook his head and chuckled at her.

"Of course, darling," he conceded. "I'm sure that you prefer to do your reading in the dark and the cold." Lucius tilted his head to indicate that her fire had long since gone out and the embers grown cold.

"These books are dark and cold," she said to him. Narcissa rubbed her face with both of her hands and managed to right herself in the chair. "Maybe I did fall asleep," she allowed.

"Well," Lucius admonished, "I can't have my wife falling asleep in the library chair like a silly schoolgirl."

"You knew about that?" Narcissa asked. She'd had somewhat of a reputation at Hogwarts for her habit of falling asleep in the library with some regularity.

"I knew about everything that happened in that school," Lucius informed her. "Little Cissy's asleep in the library again," he teased. "Unfortunately I can't give you detention for this."

"I stopped getting detentions for that in second year. Slughorn always just made me tell him what I was reading about."

"Then I shall do the same," Lucius said to her. He pulled her by both of her hands until she was standing and seated himself in the chair he'd just removed her from. He placed his hands on her waist and pulled her onto his lap. "So tell me my dearest," he implored, "have you learned anything pertinent this evening?"

"I have learned that your card games last much later than I would have suspected in the past," she informed him. "I don't remember your being so late getting back."

"I didn't mean to be gone so long," he apologized. "Time got away from me."

"Was Nott there?" she asked. Lucius nodded.

"And Crabbe," he answered. "None of us discussed what was happening, though. It was just a card game." Narcissa nodded.

"I wish I had something more definitive to tell you," she said to him, turning in his lap to rest her head on his shoulder. "I found some reference to a Teutonic Order that seemed to have been reborn in the nineteen thirties as an organization known as Blood and Soil. But what few references I can find barely mention the reformation of the Order, but rather they seem to focus solely on the ancient Order. I never thought I'd say this, Lucius, but I'm afraid all of our books are too old. I can only find a few references to the Order of Blood and Soil and they all refer to Grindewald. So I can only guess that this Order had something to do with Grindewald, but there's nothing in any of our volumes referring to Grindewald and an Order of any sort."

"Grindewald?" Lucius sounded thoroughly intrigued. "I don't know how we might gather any further information about Grindewald without raising suspicion. There was very little that survived the war in the first place."

"I know," Narcissa sighed. "I've half a mind to owl Draco and have him look for us in the library at Hogwarts. He'd have access to anything about Grindewald under the pretense of researching Dumbledore's great victory. Didn't you say his graduate student friend was studying history? That would be enough of a ruse to mask his looking for us, don't you think?"

"I should leave you home alone until all hours of the night more often," he commented. "That is a very good idea. It's about time that Draco began living up to his position in the world. As it is he's learned more about the Order than we ever intended him to know. And if it turns out that there is something to what's happening to all of us who bear the Mark, then it's likely a good idea for him to be prepared for whatever may come."

"I'd thought of that," Narcissa agreed. "It also occurs to me that, if our son can comply with this simple request without any back talking or unnecessary questions, then we'll be in a better position to let him in on the things that have been going on. I'd not relish telling him anything if he's not able to handle the responsibility of knowing about it. I'm not so sure he's ready for the serious business that he'll inherit when he grows in to the Malfoy legacy, and I think it's high time that we begin preparing him for it. It's our fault he's so spoilt and hasn't had to do anything for himself up until now, and I think we may need to start pushing him out on his own a little bit." Lucius nodded his head and cradled her in his lap, so that she was sitting across him in almost the same position he had found her in.

"Do you think we've been too soft on the boy?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"I don't know, Lucius," she answered, spooling a lock of his blonde hair around her finger. "I do know that he's quite spoiled, but it's not as though I know any other teenagers properly. And I don't think he's any worse off than I was at his age. I didn't know you yet when you were fourteen… how do you think our Draco stands up to the way you were at his age?"

"I was far too into mischief at his age," Lucius answered. "If Draco's up to a third of the shenanigans I was in to at his age and yet he's managed to keep them from us, then I'd say he is becoming well prepared for any life of deception and intrigue that he may inherit." Lucius grinned as he buried his face in her curls and kissed her once lightly behind her ear.

"I suppose you do have a point there, love," she agreed. "If Draco's been up to anything and not gotten caught, then I do suppose that he should be quite trustworthy to get a few notes from his school library."

"You owl him in the morning, pet," Lucius instructed. "And in the mean time, while our son gathers what information he can, will you promise me that you'll not wait up until all ridiculous hours of the night falling asleep where you sit and leaving me to wonder where my wife has gone when I get to the bedroom and find it empty?"

"I suppose I can make that promise," she allowed.

"Good," Lucius affirmed, standing from the chair so that Narcissa was still in his arms. She put her arms around his neck and kicked her feet. "Because I do not relish coming home to an empty bed," he finished, squeezing her to him. Narcissa tilted her face to his and placed a sweet kiss on his chin. He turned his head to her and brought his lips down onto hers, kissing her heatedly.

"Your bed shan't be empty," she assured him. "No matter where you sleep, even if it is a library chair."

"Let's go there now," Lucius suggested. Narcissa sighed and lay her head on his shoulder.

"Good idea," she agreed, "take me to bed Lucius."


	10. Chapter 10

**MAY 31**

"I can tell it hurts, darling. You don't have to sit there with a stiff upper lip." Narcissa wrung her hands in her lap. Lucius looked up at her from across the table and narrowed his eyes. She knew that he hated being called on something, but she could tell by his bearing that either he would need to let his guard down in front of her or she would have to leave the room. Refusing to get out of her chair and abandon her husband of twenty years to be in pain and alone, she chose to try getting him to just admit to the fact that something hurt.

He was sitting at the dining room table, his practically untouched plate of food in front of him and the sleeves of his normally immaculate light blue oxford shirt were rolled up to the elbow. His hair was falling out of its queue and he had tiny beads of sweat on his forehead despite the fact that it was cool in the house. "Narcissa," he growled. He sounded exasperated, but she was not about to back down. He would either tell her that he was in pain, or he could sit there and suffer in silence.

Earlier in their marriage that tine of voice would likely have frightened her; or at least she could have been intimidated by it. But now, having been married to him for more than half her life, she was secure in the knowledge that the worst he would do was yell at her to go away and wind up apologizing later with candy or jewelry as proof of his contrition. In the years they had spent together Narcissa had learned exactly how far she could push Lucius before he'd snap at her, and just how not to let it hurt her feelings when he did.

"Lucius," she snipped back at him. She wore a look that spoke both of consternation and of concern. She shook her head and softened her tone. "Darling," she addressed him again, "please just talk to me?" Lucius' eyes relaxed to normal.

"It hurts, Narcissa," he declared with the tiniest hint of annoyance in his voice. "Is that what you want to hear me say, that it sodding hurts?" Narcissa inhaled sharply and shook her head.

"I want for you to stop thinking that you have to be all tough and stalwart around me. I'd like to think that we got over that stage years ago. For Merlin's sake, Lucius, we've seen each other through scrofungulus disease; I've cared for you after whatever injury it was that once brought you home bleeding and unconscious that you still won't tell me about, and you were beside me through two miscarriages, a heart attack, and a coma. Not to mention the fact that the day you took that mark," she pointed at the welted area on his left arm, "you came to me to take care of you. Do you even remember that?" She realized that her tone had become almost shrill. She took a very deep breath and stood from her chair, walking around the table to stand behind him. "Do you remember, Lucius?" she asked, tenderly this time, pulling the leather band from his hair. She ran her fingers through his long blonde tresses as she continued. "It was the middle of the night and you snuck into my room," she leaned her chin onto the top of his head. "You came to me and you weren't at all well. Your arm was blistered and festering and you wouldn't let me do anything but put a damp towel over it. And you had such a terrible fever." She leaned her head down and pressed her cheek to his temple. "Much the same as you do at this minute," she observed. "And I made you take off your shirt…"

"And I lay down on your bed and you ran a cool rag over my back until I fell asleep," he recalled. Lucius took her right hand in his and brought her over next to him. She perched on the arm of the chair to his right. She sighed softly as he smiled at her. It was her favorite smile; the one that caused his eyes to crinkle at the corners and had melted her heart ever since she was sixteen. "I remember that night," he told her. "It was the night I knew I had to marry you."

"Really?" she asked bringing her other hand to where she had his hand in both of hers.

"I fell asleep," he reminded her. "I'd never been able to sleep soundly with fewer than two locked doors between myself and the nearest person prior to that night. At school I used to charm the curtains to turn anyone who touched them to stone. I shared a room with those chaps for seven years and never ceased to cast that enchantment before bed. And yet I was able to drift off effortlessly with your hands on my naked back. Do you remember the rest of that night?" he asked. She furrowed her brow at him.

"I went to sleep next to you and I woke up alone," she reminded him. "If you recall I was completely furious with you."

"I do recall," he affirmed. "But what you may not recall is that I woke up in the night and you were having some dreadful dream and I moved over next to you and held you until you stopped fretting."

"I seem to recall being aware of an arm around me," she told him with a soft smile on her lips. Lucius turned in his chair and looked her in the eye.

"That was my arm, Narcissa," he assured her. He looked down at his left forearm; to where the Dark Mark had gotten still darker and was swelling and oozing much as it had the night he had taken it so long ago. "This arm," he added, straightening out his painful appendage and allowing her to examine it. Narcissa frowned again. She had never been good around blood or gore and she had to bite her lip to keep her stomach from reacting to the wound.

"It looks awful," she managed to say. Lucius raised his eyebrows at her and half smiled.

"I had almost forgotten how much you hated the sight of blood, Narcissa," he commented. She grimaced when she tried to smile back at him. Lucius rose from his chair and wrapped his good arm around her.

"That doesn't mean I won't take care of you," she told him, her face pressed into the fabric of his shirt. She felt Lucius sigh.

"You always have, my dearest," he told her. Lucius wrapped his other arm around her as well and held her tightly for a moment. "I don't know what's happening Narcissa," he admitted.

"Does it hurt the same as when it was new?" she asked. "You told me that night that it was painful. Can you remember what that felt like at all? Is this the same pain?" Lucius backed away from her to lean against the chair he'd recently occupied and shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I couldn't tell you," he answered her with a slow shake of his head. "It was a long time ago and there was so much other magic…. It was like being very drunk, only I was hyper aware of things as they happened. By the time I felt the Mark being seared into my arm with fire and with magic I… I couldn't even tell you what it felt like." Narcissa took a step toward him and put her hands on his shoulders.

"Alright love," she reassured him, squeezing his shoulders lightly. "Is there anything you'd like for me to do?" she asked. "Should I try to get a hold of any of the others? Is there anyone I could contact to see if this is happening all around?" Lucius shook his head.

"I would only trust a few people, and I'm afraid there's no good way to contact anyone. Things get seen; owls mysteriously fall from the sky. If this is happening to every one of us, then it's happening even to those who have truly abandoned the cause as well as those of us who have not. There is no real way to know who might be watching us to see if we're trying to re form the order. Since no one knows who is causing this to happen, no one is above suspicion. No one, Narcissa." He looked her in the eye with a most serious expression on his face. "And with Crouch going mad, someone who knows what's going on is likely to be looking to blame his unfortunate demise on any one of us. We will give them no reason to suspect."

"What if there is a reformation of the Order?" she asked him point-blank. "Would you remember what it feels like when the Mark calls you to service? I was never privy to those moments…you never have described the sensation to me."

"I will remember," he assured her. "I can only hope that the others will remember as well. If it is the Dark Lord, there should be six of us returning to his side."

"Six?" Narcissa asked him. Lucius nodded.

"Your sister and her husband, his brother, the deceased Barty Crouch Jr., and the traitor Karkaroff will not be present, and I doubt Severus will be able to escape unnoticed. The others of the sacred circle should be present if we are summoned."

"And you are convinced that Pettigrew lives?" she asked. Lucius nodded again.

"I am certain of it. I know my enemies, pet. I know your cousin Sirius, and I know his kind. He had not the cruelty in his heart to form the intent to do to Wormtail what they say he did. Righteous anger could not create a spell that dark, you know that as well as I do." Narcissa nodded.

"I do," she affirmed.

"I also know that Peter Pettigrew is an Animagus; something that those in the employ of the Ministry had, and still have, no idea about. When the Dark Lord fell that night, I had my good name and my alliance with the house of Black to hide behind. Pettigrew had neither name nor reputation to hold up before the bar as an example of his goodness. He got away that night, hidden by the one thing he had to hide behind. He is a filthy rat, but I believe him very much alive. And I believe that he will return if it is the Dark Lord that summons us." He rubbed his temples with his forefingers. "I can only pray that it is He who is changing the Mark and no other."

"We know that it would take remarkably powerful dark magic for anyone else to manipulate the Mark," she reminded him. Her research of late had truly proved invaluable to their quest to learn why the Mark had been quickening gradually over the past several months. They had learned of the Order of Blood and Soil and how Grindewald had awakened the long dead Teutonic tradition through some act of dark magic too powerful to be properly transcribed. They had become as certain as it was possible to be that it had to be either the Dark Lord, or an equally powerful dark wizard (whom they both agreed had not existed since Grindewald and likely would never again exist) to be able to command the type of magic involved in manipulating the Mark.

Narcissa leaned toward him and took up the massaging of his temples with her own fingers. "You really are burning up, Lucius," she told him, pressing her cheek to his forehead again. "Will you let me take you upstairs and take care of you?" she asked. Lucius sighed heavily and nodded his head once. "Will you let me give you something?" she leaned just far enough back to look into his eyes. He looked tired, his eyes had the faintest hint of dark circles beneath them and although his face was flushed with fever, he still appeared almost shockingly pale. He shook his head.

"No," he answered her. "No potions," he insisted.

"A cool rag and a back rub?" she offered. Lucius reached out and put his arms around her neck and shoulders, pulling her in to a tight embrace. He tilted his head just enough to kiss her forehead as he brought her head to his chest. Narcissa closed her eyes and wrapped her arms snugly around her husband's waist. She felt Lucius petting her hair with one hand as the other squeezed her shoulder.

"That would be divine, my love," he sighed. "I would like nothing better."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Sorry for the delay in the update again. I've got another 2 stories going: 1 that's concurrent with this one that stars Draco and so I went off on a tangent of research on "Grindewald" and the Order of Blood and Soil ( a real Order in the SS in the 30's and 40's). And I also finished my piece today for the HP Lexicon's January fic contest. And then- as though that wasn't enough, I saw a special about the murder of someone I used to KNOW on Dateline. That'll put a kink in your proofreading efforts. All of that to say I'm sorry it took so long, but here it is. THANKS to all of you who review- reading your comments is the high point of my day. More soon- we all know what comes next :)

-MQ


	11. Chapter 11

**JUNE 24**

"Darling, sit down!" Narcissa was getting to the end of her rope. Lucius had been antsy all day and she was about ready to charm him still. He'd fidgeted through breakfast, and Lucius never fidgeted. He'd paced back and forth through the entire morning, and Lucius was not one to pace. He'd hummed and hawed and been distracted during tea, almost completely ignoring anything she had to say.

He'd not even noticed when she had tried to come on to him. And she'd been quite annoyed ever since. There was only one thing that she could possibly think of that might settle him and he had ignored her allusion to it. He hadn't so much as raised a curious eyebrow when she'd unbuttoned her blouse.

It was after dinner now and she thought to try and settle him by harsher means. He'd never have forgiven her if she'd really cursed him, but she was going to have to figure something out or else go mad in the trying. She wondered if anywhere in her secret stash there might be a potion to calm him. She also wondered if she could figure out the right combination of back rubs and brandy to get him to desist in his restlessness.

The man had not managed to sit still for five solid minutes all day and it was positively maddening. "What in the devil has gotten into you?" she asked as she followed him through the door to their private library. She stopped just inside the doorway and watched as he seated himself behind his massive rococo executive desk. Lucius swiveled back and forth in his desk chair, his feet tapping underneath him. She'd held her tongue all day, and now she was quite done dancing around his odd behavior. Lucius looked up at her and shook his head.

He stood from behind his desk and took up his pacing again. Now it was a steady path in front of the French doors leading from the library to its balcony. He ran his hands from his temples to the back of his head and clenched his jaw as his fingers formed fists around his hair. He turned his wild eyes toward her, but said nothing. Lucius just shook his head and then deviated from his path the few steps to lean against the edge of his desk. "Lucius…?" she addressed him again. He shook his head again.

"I don't know, Narcissa," he snapped, his hands coming out in front of him in a gesture of frustration. She frowned at him. Narcissa took several steps toward him, crossing her arms over her chest as she did. He was shaking his head and he clenched his fingers into fists, pounding them simultaneously against his thighs as he bit into his lower lip.

"And is your unrest any of my doing?" she asked him, her eyebrows raised.

"No," he muttered, his head still shaking. Narcissa sighed and boosted herself up on to the desk so that she was sitting behind him.

"So taking whatever this is out on me is accomplishing exactly…" She kept her arms crossed and waited for an answer.

"I don't know, Narcissa," he growled again, his head dropping to his chest. Narcissa sighed. She had never seen him behave like this that she could remember and she was almost at the end of her rope. She uncrossed her arms and placed one of her hands on each of his shoulders. She leaned her head into him and began to knead his muscles through the smooth fabric of his black broadcloth shirt. He brought his hands up to pat hers as she massaged. "I'm sorry, pet," he said to her.

"Sorry for what, my love?" she asked, continuing to press her fingers into his neck and shoulders.

"I have been a thorn in your side all day, have I not?" he admitted, dropping his head even closer to his chest to allow her more access to the muscles in his neck.

"Lucius, darling, you have annoyed me to no end today," she informed him. "You've not told me anything about why it is that you've been so fidgety and distracted. This is not your usual behavior, darling, and truth be told; if I didn't know better I'd say that you'd been bewitched. But I do know better since you've barely been out of my sight since long before this began. You've been jumpy and you've barely eaten, and quite honestly you've been acting so oddly that I've moved past annoyed and have begun to get quite worried about you."

"I wish I knew enough to tell you not to worry yourself, love," he answered her. "But I honestly have no idea what's had me so on edge today. I am sorry I've bothered you." Narcissa sighed softly as her hands made their way to the skin just inside his collar.

"You know," she began, "I'm not sure that I can remember another time when you've turned me down, either."

"Turned you down?" he asked, his head turning around to catch her eye.

"Of course, I'm not counting the night we became officially engaged," she added. "That night you turned me down, but I had no idea what I was doing so I probably deserved it. But in twenty years of marriage I do not remember you having ever rebuffed my advances until today." Lucius stood straight and turned around to look at her.

"Rebuffed your advances, Mrs. Malfoy?" he asked. "Pray tell; what do you mean by this? I do not recall any romantic overtures in my direction today."

"You were far too distracted by whatever it is that's been distracting you," she informed him. "But after lunch today, you were pacing on the veranda and I was reclining on a chaise lounge…" She grinned at him wryly. "I had my blouse open nearly to the waist and my skirts hitched up around my thighs. And you, my darling, failed to notice." She caught herself frowning. Had it really bothered her that much? It had just been a piece of a greater annoyance whilst it happened, but now as she recounted it, the incident was really getting to her. He had completely failed to notice her blatant display of skin.

"I thought you were sunning yourself," he offered with a shrug. Narcissa sighed. So he had noticed. Was that better or worse? She wasn't sure at all how she felt about his having taken some notice of her bare bosom and knees but having not had any reaction to it at all. She realized too late that tears had sprung to her eyes and she had to quickly wipe her face in hopes that he hadn't noticed. Lucius regarded her with a suspicious look.

"Are you quite alright, love?" he asked. Narcissa sniffled and nodded her head. But she wasn't quite alright and she knew it. Lucius studied her for another moment and then stepped toward her. "My preoccupation has upset you," he observed. "Tell me how to remedy this." That was about as close to an apology as she was likely to get from him. Although she had to admit that it wasn't really his fault. Lucius was a man, after all, and if she'd been able to hold his attention for twenty solid years without interruption, then perhaps it was simply a natural progression in their relationship for him to no longer be incited by lust at the sight of bare skin.

"It's nothing, love," she assured him, all the while making spa plans in her head. She knew there were age-defying serums that could be administered so subtly that the aging process was reversed slowly enough as to escape the notice of all but the most perceptive and constant onlooker. Perhaps she had ought to do something else with her hair? She had cast her eyes down toward the floor as she became absorbed in her thoughts and it was for that reason that she didn't see Lucius move until he was merely inches from her. "I suppose the bloom was bound to fall off the rose some time," she commented, tilting her head to look him in the eye.

"Narcissa," he sounded surprised. He came around the desk to where he was standing in front of her and she turned her body to face him. Lucius put his hands on her waist. "Do you suddenly believe that I no longer find you desirable?" Narcissa grimaced.

"It was silly of me to have said anything," she replied. "I oughtn't have mentioned it. You've got your mind on something that's been vexing you all day, and the last thing you need is for me to drag you into my silly self pity. I apologize dear." Lucius looked down at her with a mischievous grin.

"Narcissa," he said again, this time with a rasp in his voice. He bent down and kissed her on her jaw, and then again on her neck. His kisses traveled downward to the curve where her neck met her shoulder and then back up again until he was able to nibble lightly on her earlobe. "Do you honestly think," he asked as his lips moved down her neck again, "that I could ever…" His hands slid up her sides and pushed the shantung of her summer robes off of her shoulders, baring skin that his lips found immediately. "Ever," he continued between nips at her neck and collarbone, "find you anything short of ideal?"

Narcissa allowed her eyes to close and sighed happily as she enjoyed the feeling of his mouth on her skin. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his mass of blonde hair. His mouth was on hers suddenly and she thrilled in the feeling of his lips and his hands on her body as he leaned her down onto the desk. His body pressed into her as he kissed her as hot and as hard as she could ever remember being kissed.

She felt him unfastening the buttons on her blouse and she moved her hands to pull his shirt tail from his trousers. His lips moved hungrily from her mouth to her neck and back again as his expert hands found their way to the soft skin beneath her chemise. She slid her hands beneath the back of his now completely un-tucked shirt and she felt him shudder as her fingers met his bare skin. Perhaps she had been entirely wrong in thinking that he'd somehow stopped finding her alluring. She was at this moment quite convinced that he was going to take her right there on the library desk. It had been years since any piece of furniture other than their own bed had seen such ardor.

His hands reached up and pulled her hair from its bindings, running his fingers through its length as she leaned into him. Narcissa's hands came around to his chest and she fumbled with the knotted cloth buttons of his shirt. She felt his hands on her hips, shifting her body, and then she felt him gathering her skirts up about her waist. His kisses had grown more urgent, more hurried than she could recall any in recent memory. Narcissa threw her head back as his mouth traveled from hers again; lower still than before, until it reached the lace at the top of her camisole. His breath was warm against her skin and she could feel herself shudder as his fingers deftly moved to the lace that was blocking his path.

Then as suddenly as if he had been hit by a curse, Lucius was no longer touching her. Narcissa's eyes came open just in time to see him stumbling backward. She sat up with a start and fetched her wand from her skirt pocket, turning to see if there was anyone there who might have hexed him. Lucius was shaking his head. His hair flew into his face and out again with the force of his gesture. "Lucius?" she said softly.

He stopped still and looked up at her. "What is it?" she asked. She was terrified. Something had just gone horribly wrong; only she didn't know what it was or how it had happened. Lucius took a slow step toward her. She could see his shoulders rising and falling with each gasp for breath. She scooted off the edge of the desk and closed the distance between them.

Lucius unbuttoned and began to roll up the sleeve of his rumpled shirt. His eyes were wild, and his breath still came in gasps so intense that Narcissa feared he may hyperventilate. He managed with no little effort to open his sleeve and he pushed back the fabric to reveal the Dark Mark on his forearm. It now appeared as black and as clear on his skin as the day they were married, and she stared at it with fright in her eyes that she had barely even remembered was possible.

The Mark on his arm was _moving_.

The snake slithered in and around the skull in a dance Narcissa had only heard tell of before tonight. She'd never witnessed the motion of the Mark, but she knew full well what it meant. Narcissa looked up at her husband and caught his eyes as he too looked away from the slithering tattoo. "I have to go," he whispered. Narcissa nodded. That was the way it was. That is how it worked. The Mark calls and you answer it.

"Of course you have to go," she affirmed, nodding to him. Lucius took his own wand out and pointed it at the desk, upon which appeared his mask and cloak and hood, the hallmarks of the Death Eater. He bent down and kissed her again, quickly this time, but with all of the pent up urgency that he had been in the throes of just moments ago.

"I'll be back…" Narcissa nodded as she followed him to the balcony doors. Wand drawn and regalia in his hand, he stepped on to the Apparition point. And as suddenly as a 'pop' he was gone from sight.

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Are these two amazing or what? Sorry I didn't get this up yesterday, but the site was being a butthead and not letting me in to my document upload page. Thanks for all of the lovely reviews and please remember that I want more (shameless, I know). TTFN!

-MQ


	12. Chapter 12

Narcissa had almost managed to pull herself together. Almost. She'd stood still staring out the library doors for what might have been an half an hour before the reality sunk in well enough as to allow her to think clearly. She'd managed to get herself upstairs, bathed, and dressed for bed, but she hadn't yet managed to get the expression of surprise and confusion to leave her face.

The only respite she found from her fretting and worrying was the memory still on her skin of what the Mark had interrupted between herself and her husband in the library. They had never really been the type to abandon themselves to a hasty coupling on the nearest piece of unsuspecting library furniture. In fact, they had never been much on abandoning themselves to anything; at least not in recent memory. They had long ago discovered a preference for the languorous lovemaking that came with half a lifetime of knowing what your lover enjoyed. Even as newlyweds, they had been the sort to take their time and savor what they had together. She could not even recall the last time they'd made love someplace without pillow shams and fine silk sheets. She had never so much as entertained the notion of being ravished upon the desk in the library, but Narcissa had to admit to herself that she liked the idea. She could feel her cheeks flush every time she thought to recall how suddenly passionate Lucius had become.

It had been nearly two hours according to every clock in the house, and she could still feel his hands on her skin. If only…. She wished that she could concentrate completely on thoughts of the lovely evening they'd begun; and that she firmly planned to finish at some point. But, alas, there was a greater concern pressing on her mind.

The Mark had _moved_ again.

She had seen an affectation of the Mark that she'd never before been invited to witness. It had done tonight just as it had done countless times in the past to call Lucius and the others in the Order to the side of the Dark Lord. And that's where he'd been all night. Along side the Dark Lord.

The _dead_ Dark Lord. Narcissa wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. If a miracle had occurred and the Dark Lord had arisen from wherever he'd been sent thirteen years ago; he may be unhappy with those of his followers who had chosen to take whatever paths open to them to remain out of prison. Especially those who chose to denounce Him outright; those like the Malfoys. But what a blessing it would be to have Lord Voldemort back at the reins and reviving the cause.

But what if there had been no miracle? What if it was a trap? What if some Ministry Wizards had managed to research the magic involved with the creation of the Mark and learned enough to cause the Mark to quicken? What if there was someone who meant them harm on the other end of that slithering serpent on her husband's forearm?

And what if it was neither a miracle nor a trap? What if some heretofore unheard of dark Wizard had learned of the Mark and how to manipulate it? So many possibilities and no answers were evident. She knew that she'd get to hear the answer as soon as Lucius came home. That was, _if_ Lucius came home. She looked back and forth between her mirror and the alarm clock on the Lucius' night table. The bells on the clock had been enchanted to ring if anything were to happen to him, and she remembered far too clearly the time it had made the most awful noise.

It was February the eleventh, nineteen hundred and seventy-seven. It was one nineteen in the morning, and the bell hanging over the clock face had clanged in an ominous alarm. She had done as she'd been told to before they were married. She had dressed quickly and run to the private library, and there she had waited. Severus and Roddy had brought Lucius home to her, bleeding and barely conscious. They'd taken him directly into the nearest guest bedroom and had not allowed her to follow them. Roddy had left the house almost immediately without so much as a passing word to her. What might have been hours later, Severus had emerged and allowed her entry to the room. In the week following, while Lucius convalesced, she had tried to guess at the nature of his injury. He would not tell her, of course, and no amount of charm or persuasion could get the story out of anyone else, either. She'd gone so far as the Muggle library looking for what it might have been that injured him. Still to this day her guess was that he had been shot by a Muggle with a gun, but still to this day he had not told her what had happened that night.

Since the night of their wedding, she'd kept a dress between herself and the door so that she could be presentable for company or be ready to leave on a moment's notice had the need arisen. She glanced down at the gray knit sheath that was she'd draped over the velvet fainting couch adjacent to the closet and shook her head. She didn't know what to think.

It had been thirteen years since she'd been left alone at night so that Lucius could pursue the Dark Lord's business, and she didn't quite remember how it was supposed to be. How this worked, and how she was supposed to behave were bits of knowledge that she was sure she possessed somewhere in her memory, but she'd be damned if she had any solid clue as to what was going on. Should he be gone for two hours, or four, or one, or eight? Was she allowed to worry yet, or wasn't she allowed to worry until the sun had come up? Should she try and sleep? Should she wait up? What in the name of Merlin was she supposed to DO with herself alone in the house all night? Had this been what her life had consisted of in the early years of her marriage? She honestly couldn't remember anything about what things used to be like, and it was beginning to disturb her just a bit.

Narcissa caught herself drumming her fingers against the marble top of her vanity. What an unattractive affectation. She grimaced at herself in the mirror and picked her comb up from where it sat, and then she set it down again. With her nerves in their current condition, she'd be liable to comb her hair until it all fell out. At this rate, she was liable to hex her own reflection, break every mirror in the room, and set the bed on fire her nerves were so shot. Narcissa decided the best course of action would be to stick her wand through her hair so that she'd not be tempted again by the comb, and to try to calm herself with a snort of the brandy Lucius kept on the empire table by the fireplace. She calmly and rationally took the few steps that brought her to the set of chairs before the fireplace and had just put her hand on the decanter when she could have sworn she heard footfalls in the hallway outside her bedroom door.

She let the decanter drop from her fingers, it fell askew from where it had been sitting and toppled over sideways, spilling out onto the rug. She managed to right the crystal vessel, but not until the majority of its contents onto the floor. She wasn't sure which Lucius was going to be madder at her about: the fact that she'd just managed to spill the majority of his prized eighty year-old brandy, or the fact that she had spilled it on a rug that had been in his family for nine generations. Narcissa frowned at the pool of maddeningly expensive brown liquid on the ivory pile of the hand tied silk rug. She thought to pull her wand from her hair and clean it up; certainly she could calm herself enough to _scourgify _the stain from the rug and hopefully save herself a smidgen of his wrath.

She hadn't time to act on her inclination, however, as she heard the door come open and managed to look up just in time to see her husband step through the door. His pace was even, measured, like that of a jackal stalking its prey. "Good evening, my dear," he addressed her, his voice low and guttural. Narcissa stood from her seat and regarded him.

"Good evening," she answered. Lucius continued to move toward her. Narcissa stepped out from behind the chair and bit her lip. She wasn't sure how to ask what had gone on. "Was it…?" Lucius nodded as he closed the distance that separated them.

"It was," he confirmed, his voice still smoldering.

"A miracle," she declared. She could feel her lower lip beginning to tremble.

"A miracle," Lucius reiterated, finally stopping his advance just inches from where she stood. He looked down at her with an indescribable and yet familiar expression. "The Dark Lord has returned to us, Narcissa," he told her.

"And what of the sacred circle?" she asked him, reaching out to stroke the fabric of his shirt over the Dark Mark on his arm.

"The circle is all but complete," he answered. "We will once again seek to gain the power that is rightfully ours." Lucius reached out and pulled the wand from out of bun hair and ran his fingers through her hair as it fell about her shoulders.

"I want to hear everything," she sighed, her mouth falling open as his touch incited her to remember their earlier activities.

"And I will tell you," he assured her, his face coming closer to hers. His hands were still in her hair and he kissed her temple. He tilted her face up toward his and brought her lips to his for the briefest kiss. "There will be time for explanations, my love," he said to her. "But now is the time for rejoicing." He kissed her again, just as briefly, but with more urgency.

"A miracle," Narcissa whispered again. She forgot completely about the spilled liquor on the rug. All that mattered now were the memories that were suddenly flooding back to her. She had believed in the cause with her whole heart and she had given her whole life to its service. When the Dark Lord had fallen he had taken so much of her family's identity with him. It had been hard to live in war, but she remembered the feeling of fulfillment she had gotten every day from knowing that her sacrifices were in the name of something good and noble. She remembered the satisfaction she'd felt in each little hurt that she had suffered as a result of the war that waged just outside her field of view. She'd never been an active participant in the carnage that she knew had gone on, but she had felt it as present as though it were the air that she breathed or the wine in her glass.

She'd matured since then. She'd raised a child and grown up quite a bit herself. She was stronger now, more self assured; more ready, she thought, to perhaps join the fray this time around. She didn't know if Lucius would allow her to participate outside the realm of thought, and at this moment it mattered very little. He was right. There would be time to explain, to analyze, to plan and to organize. There would be plenty of opportunity to define the scope of the conflict that was surely to come and to squabble over what she would be expected and allowed to do in the service of the Dark Lord.

But tonight was not about that. Tonight was, like Lucius said, a celebration for them; a celebration of all that they had fought for and all that was to come. Narcissa wrapped her arms around her husband's neck as she looked into his intense, gray eyes. He leaned his face to hers again, his lips curled into a genuine smile. His smile was full of hope and of adoration, of surprise and fulfillment and of promise. Just as his lips were about to meet hers, he whispered once again the words that she had said just a moment ago. "A miracle."

Indeed.

THE END.

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I have been dawdling today because I didn't want it to be over. Is that bad? I am so grateful to all of you who have read and reviewed and who have put up with my trying to write the hot and heavy stuff (which I have never even tried to write before this piece). I've got more L/N in my head and I will be writing it beginning tonight. I hope y'all have enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed putting it together. I appreciate the reviews more than anything in the world. Y'all are the greatest!!!

-MQ


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